


What Would Matilda Do Next?

by hansolo



Series: WWMD [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dumbledore is a bit of an old goat, Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Harry and Hermione are twins, Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets, Matilda - Freeform, Multi, Parselmagic, Potter Twins, Second year, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Mythology, Snape is trying to be a mentor, The twins are socially stupid but they're trying hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansolo/pseuds/hansolo
Summary: Harry and Hermione Potter, known more commonly in the Wizarding World as The-Twins-Who-Lived, have survived an eye-opening first year at Hogwarts.Second year is just around the corner, but first the freedom of the Summer Holidays beckons.They should enjoy it while it lasts, because they'll need all of Matilda's wisdom to get through this year.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter
Series: WWMD [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1803064
Comments: 144
Kudos: 394





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Second year !!!  
> This is just a super quick first chapter, just while the momentum is going.  
> Thanks to everyone who read the first story. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is in italics.

Hermione was comfortably lying in the sun as the wind rustled through the grass, both Kid and Ty nestled on her chest, soaking up the rays. Harry was ducking and weaving above them on his brand-new broom – a Nimbus 2000.

Hermione was sure she’d never been so content before – she was free and all she loved was currently with her. Her contentment wound around the bond, making it flare slightly.

Despite their end-of-year promise to live in the real world more, they had promptly spent the entire summer holidays thus far entirely in their own heads. After alighting the Hogwarts Express, they’d headed over to Diagon Alley and bought the much-promised broom and knife along with (in Harry’s opinion) far too many books and then they’d vanished into Potter Manor. Beyond occasionally wandering into the nearest Muggle town to nick food, both Harry and Hermione had been very content to remain behind the Potter wards. Their first few tentative spells had not seen any warnings fly in from the Ministry, and so they had promptly dived into learning more defensive magic.

Hermione was well aware that they were both becoming a little feral but compared to the cupboard … well, at least she could see the sky. With a sigh, she settled back into the meadow, content with watching Harry chase after his practice snitch.

Little did she know that her and Harry’s current level of calm was in direct opposition to the panic surrounding them in the outside world.

-/-

“What,” Snape enunciated devastatingly, “do you mean when you say you’ve lost the Potter twins?” His summer potions research had been suddenly interrupted by a fairly panicked summoning from the headmaster. He’d stepped through the fireplace to find both Dumbledore and McGonagall with identical looks of worry on their faces.

“They haven’t been seen since they got off the train,” McGonagall supplied, her brogue twisting through her words.

“And I assume you’ve checked where they should be,” he continued, looking around the room.

“I needed to make sure the wards were still holding, after the events at the end of the year. I put up blood wards around Petunia’s home when I sent the twins there all those years ago. The wards are still there but the twins are not,” Dumbledore said gravely.

“And what did dear Petunia say?” Snape said, unable to help the twist in his mouth at the thought of Petunia Evans. There was a long pause after his question, and he raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t ask her?”

There was a longer pause at that as Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at him expectantly. Only his excellent Occlumency control stopped him from groaning out loud. They’re going to be scrubbing cauldrons in detention until the end of time when I find them, he thought.

“This is going to require the utmost secrecy,” Dumbledore said. “Our world cannot know they’re missing.”


	2. A Bat in the Burbs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Twoooooooo  
> Snape hunts down Petunia while H&H continue just having a jolly time.  
> Let me know what you think
> 
> Mind speak denoted by < xx >

< It’s going to be difficult to exorcise Binns, > Hermione said, rifling through one of her textbooks. Harry nearly dropped the pan he was holding.

< What? >

Hermione flicked her head around at his tone, brows drawn together in confusion. < I said, it’s going to be difficult to exorcise Binns. >

< No, no. I got that. What the hell are you talking about? > Harry exclaimed.

< Exorcising Binns! He’s completely useless. There’s no way a ghost should be our history teacher. He doesn’t even teach us any relevant history, for crying out loud. Can you believe there’s no modern history in the syllabus at all? >

< I can’t believe there’s actually a syllabus to begin with, so any lacking on its part is not a surprise. Can you hold onto your murder thoughts for a few minutes while you help me serve up dinner? > Harry said, placing a steaming pot on the table. Hermione rolled her eyes but quickly fetched the rest of the plates and utensils. They took turns to cook dinner, both rather proficient in the kitchen thanks to their ‘years of servitude’ – the joking way they often referred to their time at the Dursleys.

After inhaling a few meatballs, Hermione looked up at Harry who rolled his eyes but nodded for her to continue. < So, ghosts or spirits, they’re essentially soul imprints. They don't have souls, it's just a pale version of what they were. They’ve chosen not to move on, usually because they’re afraid of death or because they’ve got unfinished business. They really can’t do much, they don’t have control over the physical world, except for how they drop the temperature of their surroundings. Which is all well and good, but all these books say that ghosts can’t be destroyed, > Hermione said, waving her fork around the place. < They don’t particularly like light or fire-making spells, and depending on who you believe, iron probably banishes them temporarily, but beyond that … nothing. >

< Well, guess we’re stuck with Binns then, > Harry said half-heartedly.

< Me Me, > she said in a serious tone. < Anything can be killed. How can ghosts be the exception to that? >

< Well, they’re already dead, aren’t they? They’ve already been killed. >

< Yes, but there are plenty of other living dead. Inferi – you can burn them. Zombies … pretty sure you can burn them too. Vampires, banshees, poltergeists. You can kill all of those things too. What makes ghosts any different? >

< All of those things have physical bodies, and I suppose have souls. Even poltergeists, and thus being physical, can be subject to harm. But ghosts are immaterial, > Harry pondered.

< I clearly need more books, > Hermione stated, returning to shovelling spaghetti in.

Harry groaned.

-/-

Snape looked around in thinly veiled disgust at the suburbia he’d landed in. Perfectly trimmed lawns and shrubs, flowers equally spaced, identical houses. Of course this is where Petunia lives, he thought. He had no fond memories of the sour-faced child she’d been, and he doubted she’d gotten better with age. He rapped on the front door, taking a deep breath to centre himself.

Petunia opened the door, her pleasant Stepford smile dropping to a look of shock and horror.

“You!” she seethed, immediately slamming the door shut. With a wave, Snape opened the door and followed her inside.

“A charming welcome as always, Petunia,” he droned, casting an eye around the spotless house. He took a seat at the dining table and leaned back, thoroughly enjoying her look of fury and panic.

“What do you want?” she snapped out.

“Where are they?” he said, continuing to scope out the house. He couldn’t see any evidence that more than one child lived here, all picture frames clearly featured one large blonde boy.

“Who?” Petunia asked snottily.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Tuney,” he said, twisting her name through his mouth. “Where are her children?”

“Fitting that you can’t even say her name,” she spat. “You think I don’t know what you became, how your friendship ended? And you want to come around here and pretend like you care about her children.”

“You can’t say her name either, you wretched woman. You betrayed her far before I did,” Snape said, his eyes flashing. “But I am not here to rehash the ways we both failed her. Now tell me, where are Harry and Hermione?”

Petunia laughed unkindly. “I haven’t seen either of those ungrateful brats since that monster of a man broke down my front door a year ago. And good riddance. I hope I don’t see either of them again, the pair of freaks that they are.”

There was silence as Snape slowly processed what her words meant, that they hadn’t even returned after Hagrid had delivered them their letters. “What did you do to them?” he said quietly, barely keeping a lid on his rage. “What was so terrible about this place that they haven’t been back?” Before he knew it, he was on his feet, towering over Petunia.

“I didn’t do anything to those freaks,” she said, taking a step back. Snape grabbed her jaw, forcing her eyes to his before he plunged into her mind.

The urge to curse the woman in front of him was overwhelming at what he’d seen. “A cupboard?” he spat savagely. “You really kept them in a cupboard?” He whirled on the spot, eyes searching the house. Stalking across to the stairs, Snape wrenched open the cupboard door. Inside was a dusty thin mattress and a threadbare blanket, a few broken toy soldiers, several spiders, and a child’s drawing of two figures holding hands, spiky lettering pronouncing this as ‘Me and Mi’s Room’. It was without a doubt the saddest thing he’d ever seen.

Without saying a word, he apparated back to his own house before he did something illegal.


	3. Bust Up at the Bookstore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think :)  
> Comments / kudos feed my soul 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is in italics

“Did you know?” Snape said without preamble, settling back into the chair opposite the headmaster.

“Did I know what, Severus?” replied Dumbledore, looking curiously over his half-moon glasses. With a soft cry, Fawkes took off and landed on the other chair, also looking at Snape.

“How she treated them, how she treated Lily’s children,” he snapped. “She’s kept them in a damn cupboard for all these years.”

“Oh, so they are with her?” Dumbledore said, relaxing back into his chair with relief. Snape stared at the old man in disbelief. 

“Did you hear me?” he seethed. “She kept them in a cupboard. And no, they’re not with her, and I must admit to being glad they are not.”

“Then where are they?” Dumbledore asked urgently. “Why would they disappear like this? I need you to keep searching for them. It's vital that they remain safe behind those wards.”

“Maybe because they were kept in a cupboard! Are you hearing me? I don’t know where they are, and Petunia hasn’t seen them since Hagrid came to give them their Hogwarts letters.”

“Did she give any clue as to where they might be?” Dumbledore said.

“She has no idea,” Snape said tiredly. “And I haven’t any idea of where to even begin searching for them.”

“Maybe they’re with a friend. Who would they seek shelter with?” Dumbledore asked.

“Longbottom is their closest friend. I don’t know who they’d seek shelter with besides that.”

“Well, I’ll check with Madam Longbottom. Hogwarts letters are due to go out soon so they should emerge to get their textbooks. We’ll have to stake out Diagon Alley,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll set up shifts between you and Minerva.”

“I won’t take them back to that house, Albus,” said Snape. “I won’t.”

“We’ll deal with that when we have to,” said Dumbledore.

-/-

“ _There’s one of those feathery beasts_ ,” hissed Kid. “ _Can I eat it?”_

Hermione laughed. _“No, little one. It’s an owl and it’ll be carrying our Hogwarts letters. We’ll get some more mice for you when we go to Diagon Alley.”_ She scritched under Kid’s chin, letting her wind up her arm and rest across her shoulders. < Me, our letters are here! >

She fed the owl some treats and took the letters from it, quickly opening it. There was the usual spiel about catching the Hogwarts Express from King’s Cross station on September the first. There was also a list of the new books they’d need for the coming year.

Second year students will require:

 _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

< What the hell? > she said. < No new potions or charms books but we’ve got to read all these Lockhart books. Who the hell is he? > She handed over the letter to Harry who’d wandered down.

< Bit heavy with the alliteration, innit? > he said, rubbing the sleep from his face.

< You know what this means, Me? A trip to the bookstore! >

-/-

The Knight Bus dropped them outside the Leaky Cauldron, and they stumbled off the cursed bus, faces hidden by their green cloaks.

They headed, of course, straight to Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was one track minded when she wanted to be. They were not the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

Today 12.30 – 4.30pm

< Gods, we picked the wrong day, > Hermione moaned. < Look at all these people. >

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of middle-aged witches. A harassed looking wizard stood at the door saying, “Calmly, please ladies … don’t push, there … mind the books now …”

< Look on the bright side. No-one will even notice us because everyone is here for Lockhart, > Harry said, grabbing her hand and squeezing into the bookshop. They slowly weaved their way through the crowds, grabbing their textbooks. They eyed off Lockhart when he came into view. He was seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. He was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue which exactly matched his eyes and his wizard’s hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

< He looks like a complete wanker, > Hermione said dismissively, dodging a short man who was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. Harry wasn’t as lucky and collided with the photographer.

“Out of the way there,” the man snarled, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the _Daily Prophet_.”

Gilderoy looked up at that and locked eyes with Harry. He stared and then leapt to his feet to stare further. “It can’t be Harry Potter?!” he shouted excitedly. “And that must mean … yes, Hermione Potter too!”

Hermione paused in horror as the crowd parted around her, whispering excitedly. < Oh, this is bad, > she said. All eyes had turned towards them as Lockhart dived forward and grabbed both of them, pulling them to the front. The crowd burst into applause as he wrapped his arm around the two of them and grinned cheesily at the photographer who was clicking away madly.

“Nice big smile you two,” said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. “Together, we’re worth the front page.”

< I told you we should have come back a different day! > Harry said, trying his best to smile, the muscles in his face only half co-operating.

< No, you didn’t! > Hermione screeched, resolutely not smiling for the camera. < You said no-one would fucking notice us because of this twat. This is worse than Hagrid and the Leaky Cauldron. > She tried to sidle out of his grasp, but he kept her clamped tightly to his side.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry and Hermione here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present to them now, free of charge –“ the crowd applauded again, “- they had no idea,” Lockhart continued, giving both of them a little shake, “that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. They will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheered and clapped loudly as the twins found themselves being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under the weight, they managed to make their way out of the limelight to the edge of the room. Harry was still stunned by what had happened, but Hermione was working up steam over the bond, her language enough to turn Harry’s ears pink.

< Do you reckon that fucking peacock will be a better teacher than the actual Dark Lord Voldemort? > she spat. < Because I have serious doubts. >

< Blank face, Mi, blank face, > Harry replied. < And surely he’ll be better. He can at least string a sentence together. Let’s get out of here before someone else grabs us. > He turned towards the front of the store only to immediately run into Ron Weasley. < Gods above give me patience. >

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Ron sneered. “The famous Potter twins can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page!”

“Try not to drip your jealousy on the books, Weasley,” came Malfoy’s drawling voice. “We all know the only reason you’d get into the paper was if mediocrity became a crime.” Hermione laughed loudly.

“Why don’t you leave out of it,” said Ginny, a short, red-haired girl, glaring at Malfoy.

“Oh, congratulations Weasley, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” Hermione said sweetly. “Probably a bit young for you but beggars can’t be choosers.” Both Ron and Ginny’s face flushed scarlet.

“They’ll probably have to go begging to afford all these books though,” Malfoy finished, smirking at Hermione. Before Ron could retort, his father arrived.

“Ron,” said Mr Weasley, a thin balding man, “what are you doing? It’s mad in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley,” came a measured drawl. It was Mr Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

< I’m never leaving the house again, > Harry said. < Does anyone else want to join this conversation? Is Dumbledore in this bookstore too? >

“Lucius,” said Mr Weasley, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr Malfoy. “All those raids … I hope they’re paying you overtime?” He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted a very old and battered copy of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_. “Obviously not,” he smirked. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr Weasley flushed a dark red. “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said. Hermione and Harry’s heads were swivelling back and forth like they were at the tennis.

“Clearly,” said Mr Malfoy. “Every time I think your family could sink no lower …”

There was a thud of metal as Ginny’s cauldron went flying. Mr Weasley had thrown himself at Mr Malfoy, knocking him backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads and Hermione and Harry watched speechless as the two wizards pounded on each other, fists and feet flying.

< This is utter madness, > Hermione remarked, watching closely.

< Neville did say they had a feud between their families, > Harry said. < Oh, that reminds me. We still need to organise to get Neville a new wand. > He ducked as a few books came flying their way.

< Oh, look. Hagrid's going to join the conversation, > Hermione pointed out. < We honestly need popcorn for this. >

Hagrid was wading through the sea of books towards the two men. In an instant he had pulled Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy apart. They were both bleeding and scuffed and Mr Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an _Encyclopaedia of Toadstools_. He was still holding Ginny’s old transfiguration book. He thrust it to her, his eyes glittering with malice.

“Here, girl – take your book – it’s the best your father can give you –“ Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop. Draco waved at them as he left.

< Nice of him to come defend us, > Hermione said, smiling after the blonde boy.

< Like the two of you aren’t just constantly spoiling for a fight, > Harry said. < Please tell me you have all the books. Let’s get the fuck out of here. >

< There is a bookshop down Knockturn Alley that I want to check out, > Hermione said. < I’m hoping it’ll have some more useful books on ghosts. And I agree, we should go to creepy Ollivanders to see if we can help out Neville. >

They stepped out into the bright light and immediately ran into a dark figure. Blinking from the glare, Harry realised the Potions Master was looking down at them, a menacing glint in his eyes.

< I suppose this does confirm he’s not a vampire, being out in all this sunlight, > he quipped. < Why is he just standing there? >

“Good afternoon, Professor Snape,” Hermione said, offering her innocent smile and head tilt to the man in front of them.

“And just where have you two been?” Snape said in a devastating tone.

“Flourish and Blotts,” offered Hermione.

Harry stifled a laugh. < Why is he talking to us? Essentially not a word all year and now he wants to chat? > Snape continued to stare down at the two of them. Harry resisted the urge to confess to crimes he hadn’t actually committed.

“Err,” he began. “Well, we better … err, finish up and get home. Nice to see you, Professor,” he said, trying to herd Hermione away.

“Ah, yes,” Snape said. “Home.” He said the word like a threat. 

Hermione laughed nervously. “We better get going, wouldn’t want them to worry because we’re late.” She tried to step around the Potions Master.

“You’re only late by a year, I’m sure your Aunt can wait a few more hours,” he said. Both Harry and Hermione froze, eyes sliding to each other.

< He knows! > Hermione said.

< Obviously he knows, > Harry shot back. < I don’t think that needed to be stated. What are we going to do? What does he want? Does he want to take us home and eat us? >

< This is not Hansel and Gretel! > Hermione said, a tinge of hysteria working its way through the bond. < Where’s the Cloak? >

< I’ve got it, but I think it’ll be a bit obvious if we just whirl a cloak around us and vanish. Oh gods, we need to say something out loud. Say something intelligent out loud. >

“Errr,” he said, cursing that nothing more intelligent had fallen out of his mouth.

< Oh, very intelligent. Were you really second in the year? > Hermione said.

< You are more than welcome to step in, Your Majesty, > Harry replied.

“Well, you see …” she trailed off. < Shut up. I’ve got nothing. Should we just run away? It’d look weird if he chased us. What would Matilda do? >

“Let me interrupt whatever famous excuse you’re currently trying to come up with,” said Snape, watching the odd silent back-and-forth that they always did. “Have you any idea the panic you’ve caused?”

< Probably similar to the panic I’m currently feeling, > panted Harry. They remained silent, eyes flicking back and forth between each other and Snape. < I reckon Matilda would run away. Let’s run away. We only need to get far enough away that we can put the Cloak on. Oh gods, this is the worst plan in the whole world. He’s going to murder us. >

< Please shut up, > Hermione said. < On the count of three … >


	4. Fleeing and Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three ... two ... one ... 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is in italics 
> 
> Drop a comment and tell me what you think :)

Snape had heard passers-by gossiping about Lockhart and the twins and had made a beeline to the bookshop. He hadn’t expected to quite literally run into the pair as they emerged from the shop, however. Taking a brief moment to survey them, he was pleased that they looked healthy and intact.

Gods, I’m still going to put them in detention for the whole year, he thought. They had frozen as he revealed he knew they weren’t living with their Aunt, and he was now in an odd stand-off with them, as they flicked their eyes back and forth. Why are they always so silent, he pondered, why don’t they talk?

“Let me interrupt whatever famous excuse you’re currently trying to come up with,” he said. “Have you any idea the panic you’ve caused?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as they remained silent but before he could say anything further, they suddenly took off. He whirled around before realising that he could hardly pull his wand against them. In that brief second, they vanished.

Minerva is not going to let me hear the end of this, he thought

-/-

< … two … one, > Hermione counted down. As one, they sprinted away, weaving between the crowd. Throwing themselves behind a stand outside one of the stores, Harry whirled the cloak over them.

Slowly, they edged their heads over the stand, looking back to where Snape was still standing, a look of surprise and fury mixing on his face. Harry resisted the very childish urge to poke his tongue out. < Fuck this day. Neville’s wand woes will have to wait. Let’s go home and never leave again, > he said.

Hermione groaned over the bond. < We are gonna be so fucking screwed when we get back to school, > she said. < Maybe we should have picked Ravenclaw. >

< Do you realise what this means, Mi? > Harry said urgently, the bond thrumming between them. < He knows. That means someone tried to check on us. It means they knew, they knew what happened to us for all those years, and they didn’t give a flying fuck. >

Hermione had a very ugly look on her face as she took in his words. < We can’t ever trust them, Me. > Her chest hurt slightly as she said it. Harry felt the bond twinge with it.

< It’ll be ok, Mi Mi. They can’t find us at home. Come on, I’ll make your favourite dinner. >

-/-

< I swear, if he tries to corner us again, I’ll … > Hermione trailed off as the Knight Bus departed.

< What? > Harry said, looking over at her curiously, adjusting his bag strap.

< The hedge has eyes, > she remarked. Harry jerked his head around. There were two enormous green eyes among the leaves of the hedge.

< Should we … I don’t know … should we run? > he said, feeling his muscles twitching.

“What the hell do you want? I’m warning you, come out now or else!” Hermione shouted.

< Forget Ravenclaw, you really are a Gryffindor. You’ve never met someone you wouldn’t fight, > Harry said exasperatedly. < Are we really related? What’s wrong with running away? >

A little creature slowly emerged from the hedge. It had large, bat-like ears, a long, thin nose, and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. It was wearing what looked like a filthy pillowcase. They stared at each other slowly.

“Err – hello?” Harry tried nervously, cursing his sister over the bond.

“Harry Potter! Hermione Potter!” said the creature, in a high-pitched voice. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you … such an honour it is!”

“Right,” Hermione said slowly, tilting her head. “What are you?”

< That’s rude, Mi, > Harry whispered.

“Dobby, Miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,” said the creature.

“And just why do you want to meet us Dobby?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. < Seems like a lot of people want to meet us today. >

“Oh, Dobby has come to tell you, miss … it is difficult … Dobby wonders where to begin …”

“Try the beginning,” Hermione said, not giving an inch. < We thought Quirrell was fine because he was a moron who couldn’t string a sentence together. I’m not falling for that again. I will remain suspicious. > Harry privately thought that paranoid might be a better word.

“Dobby heard tell that Harry and Hermione Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago … that they escaped yet again.” Dobby’s eyes shone with tears. “So valiant and bold to have braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry and Hermione, to warn them, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later … Harry and Hermione must not go back to Hogwarts!”

Hermione made a very unimpressed face. “I don’t think so. We’ll be going back to Hogwarts.”

“No, no, no,” squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. “Harry and Hermione Potter must stay where they are safe. They are too great, too good, to lose. If they goes back to Hogwarts, they will be in mortal danger.”

< That’s basically a Tuesday for us at this stage, > Harry said.

“There is a plot,” Dobby continued. “A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts this year. Dobby knows it. Harry and Hermione must not put themselves in peril. They are too important.”

< I’d say a prank, but I’m given to understand one needs friends for that and this isn’t Neville’s style, > Harry remarked. “What terrible things Dobby? Who’s plotting them?”

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then started banging his head on the ground over and over madly, shouting “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

Hermione startled at the sight, looking around wildly. < What the fuck is he doing? > she exclaimed. “What the fuck are you doing?” she hissed at the elf.

“Dobby had to punish himself, miss,” said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, miss.”

“What?” Hermione said, after a protracted silence.

“The wizard family Dobby serves, miss … Dobby is a house-elf – bound to serve one house and one family forever …”

“Oh,” Harry said. “So, they’re the ones who sent you here? Who are they?”

Dobby shuddered. “Oh no, sir, no … Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir …”

< This is all too much weirdness for one day, > Hermione said, rubbing her temples. < So, someone wants to kill us? Big whoop. It’s probably just Voldemort again. > She turned to the small elf again. “Ok, so Voldemort is plotting to kill us again. Tell us something we don’t know.”

< Maybe sound less casual about our future murder, > Harry muttered.

“Not the Dark Lord, miss,” said Dobby, shaking his head.

“Oh, must be that other nemesis we have then. Well, Dobby. This has been fun. We’ll be sure to avoid all evil plots. You have a nice day now,” she said, turning on her heel and marching towards the house. Harry awkwardly gave a thumbs up to the little elf before going to follow his sister.

Abruptly, he found himself unable to move his legs. He swivelled his torso around to look at the elf, fury beginning to flicker through the bond as he tried to move his legs. 

“Dobby must protect the great Harry and Hermione Potter. They mustn’t go back to Hogwarts,” the elf squeaked.

< Oh, I’ve had enough of this, > seethed Hermione, the bond crackling louder. < First stupid Lockhart then stupid Weasley then stupid Snape and now a fucking house-elf. > She took a deep breath in. _“Echidna! Typhon!”_ she hissed, trying to screech out the Parseltongue as loud as she could. _“We need your help!”_

Dobby gave a small shriek at the sibilant voice, horror in his eyes, and with a snap of his fingers, suddenly vanished.

Harry gave a mean smile to his sister as he unfroze. _“Nice one, Mi Mi. Come on, before someone else decides to drop in on us.”_

They hurried over the ward lines towards the house, the bond slowly settling between them as they crossed over into safety.


	5. Back to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Hogwarts.  
> Poor Snape is trying to be a mentor but he's an inept bat and the twins are super suspicious and socially stupid.  
> They're going to try and make friends though. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is in italics
> 
> Let me know what you think :) :)

It was with relief that they boarded the Hogwarts Express. They’d arrived ludicrously early, half-fearing that Snape would be waiting for them on the platform. Indeed, they’d been the first to arrive.

< Ok, Me Me. It’s been a fun summer, but now we’ve got to stop living in our heads. We’re going to have a normal year, we’re going to have more friends. There will be no jaunts in the Forbidden Forest, no ginormous dogs, no trolls, no Voldemort, > Hermione rattled off.

< And I’m going to make the Quidditch team, > Harry added.

< Ok, we need a plan. Who are we hanging out with? When will we hang out with them? >

Harry made a face. < I don’t think you’re supposed to plan. Like I think making friends just happens, doesn’t it? > Hermione gave him a very unimpressed face and he rolled his eyes. < Ok, sister mine. Tell me your plan. >

< So, we have seven classes. I think in Potions we should stay together, we make really good potions together, and we need to show a united front to Snape. And in Herbology, we can keep sitting with Neville. History of Magic doesn’t count, it’s a snooze fest. That leaves Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, and Astronomy. Actually, forget Astronomy. You’re just looking at the sky. So, three classes. I’m thinking we try to become better friends with Draco, Pansy, Theo, Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey. What do you think? > Hermione said.

< So we’re still together in Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and History of Magic? Yeah, alright. That sounds like a plan, > Harry said, shrugging.

< I don’t feel like you took away the right stuff there, needy Me, > Hermione teased. < Also, some of the Ravenclaws might be nice. I’ve heard that Anthony Goldstein is pretty smart. >

< Also, I’ll be making friends on the Quidditch team too, > Harry said. < Maybe you should join a club. >

< I’m not joining a club without you, > Hermione immediately said.

< Now who’s needy? > Harry laughed.

-/-

“Nice to see you two already ingratiating yourselves with the new Professor,” Pansy laughed, spooning some roast potatoes onto her plate. Dumbledore had just introduced Lockhart to the hall with a fair amount of applause and far too many wolf whistles.

“What do you mean?” Harry and Hermione replied. They shot a look at each other. < We probably have to stop doing that, > they said at once. < … jinx, bitch. > They looked back at Pansy.

“You and Lockhart in the _Daily Prophet_ ,” Daphne said, leaning forward. “We’re so jealous. What is he like?”

< Oh gods, > Hermione panicked. < What do I say? Do I tell the truth? I thought he was a wanker! Oh, I take it all back. Forget making friends, we can just live in our head again. >

“He’s larger than life,” Harry said, cutting across Hermione’s rambling. “It was only a quick photo, so I guess we don’t really know what he’s like, but he certainly seems to have gone on some adventures. How were your holidays, Daphne? And you, Pansy?” - < You keep panicking, I’ll hold a conversation like a normal person, Mi. > Hermione jabbed him over the bond.

“We both went to France which was absolutely delightful,” Pansy said. “What about you two?”

< Oh, you know. We hung out in a half-destroyed manor, just us and our snakes. A house-elf attacked us, Snape wanted to kidnap us. Real normal people shit, > Hermione said. Harry kept a politely blank look on his face.

“Oh, nothing very interesting. Just some study. Hermione loves being a swot,” he said blandly. < You are NOT helping, you know? >

< I’m starting to think that honesty might be a key part of friendships, Me. How on earth are we supposed to do that? > she shot back.

< Well, maybe we should trust them, > he replied, only half-believing his own words. The terse look she gave him said more than enough, before she turned back to her treacle tart.

Before long, the feast finished, and Dumbledore stood, silence falling on the hall. He smiled genially around at all the students.

“Another year at Hogwarts. Just a few notices before we all trot off to bed. Mr Filch wishes me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. The Forest remains forbidden to all students. Quidditch trials will be held in second week, you should speak to your respective Captains if you’re interested in trying out. Now, off to bed. Prefects, please lead the students to your dormitories.”

< Old coot, > Hermione said, as they made their way out of the hall. Before they could go any further though, Snape appeared before them. < Oh, shit, > she said. < We didn’t plan for this. >

< I think it was some real wishful thinking on our part, with a healthy dose of avoidance, > Harry said, looking up at the Potions master.

“You two will be coming with me. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you,” Snape said curtly.

“But it’s so late…” Hermione tried.

“You must have misheard that as a request. I shall endeavour to be clearer,” Snape returned. “Come with me.”

-/-

They marched in silence along a corridor before stopping in front of a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

“Sherbet lemon,” Snape said. This was evidently a password because the gargoyle sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase which was moving smoothly upwards, like an escalator. Stepping onto it, they rose upwards in circles, higher and higher.

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top and Snape rapped on the door.

< I assume we’re just going to blatantly lie. > Harry said, looking around the room. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises.

< I’m not telling that old goat anything, > Hermione sniffed, eyeing off a number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables which were whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke.

“Please have a seat,” said Dumbledore, seated behind an enormous, claw-footed desk, in a fancy high-backed chair. Harry and Hermione sat uncomfortably, still subtly looking around. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames.

There was a soft cry as a bright red bird flew over their heads, coming to a rest on a stand next to the desk. The twins slowly put their hands into their pockets, gently patting Kid and Ty who were sleeping. Dumbledore kept quietly surveying them, Snape a dark presence behind them.

“Where were you these holidays?” asked Dumbledore, looking concerned over his half-moon glasses.

“At home, sir,” Harry replied, figuring he’d probably sound more respectful than his sister.

Snape swept around to stand next to the desk. “I spoke with your Aunt. I know you have not been living there since Hagrid delivered your letters. You have clearly not been at home,” he said.

“That’s not our home, sir,” Harry replied in a vaguely chipper voice. < I wonder if they’d expel us for this. >

< Oh, not their precious Twins-Who-Lived, > Hermione said sarcastically, inspecting her nails.

“Then where have you been living?” Snape pressed.

“At home, sir,” Hermione chipped in. < This is kinda fun. I can literally see his blood pressure rising. >

“And where exactly is that?” Snape said flatly.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other quickly before turning back and shrugging their shoulders.

“I must insist that you tell us,” said Dumbledore. “You are twelve years old and cannot be living on your own. You must return to your Aunt and Uncle’s place. It is the safest place for you.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “We can go back there next Summer holidays.” He smiled politely at the two professors, the bond running cold with his fury. < Fuck this guy, Mi. But if it gets us away from him, I’ll say whatever he wants to hear. They couldn’t find us before, they won’t be able to find us next holidays. >

“Forgive me if I think you’re being disingenuous,” Snape drawled. “Regardless, I know that you have rather a strained relationship with your relatives. I can understand why you might not wish to return there. We can help with that.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione said lightly, her patented confused mask on. < All he means is that they fucking know we were kept in a cupboard. They didn’t care before. They only care now because we’re out of their reach. > Her hot fury was mixing with Harry’s cold anger, making the bond snap and shudder between them.

“We can ensure that you are treated right,” said Snape.

< There’s the carrot, > Hermione said. < Wonder what the stick will be. >

“It’s rather late,” Harry said. “We can go back to the Dursleys next Summer holidays if you so wish.” He faked a loud yawn, stretching his hands above his head.

“We still need to know where you were,” Dumbledore said. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Let me be honest,” she said, before Harry could stop her. “We’re not going to tell you, so good luck getting it out of us.”

“Then I have no choice but to give you detention,” said Dumbledore.

Hermione almost laughed. < It’s not much of a stick, really. Hardly a frypan to the head. > She smiled sweetly at the headmaster. “We look forward to our detention. I assume we can go to bed now, sir?” Dumbledore nodded and before he could say anything else, Hermione had whisked Harry out of his seat and had disappeared back out the door.

-/-

“I see what you mean,” Dumbledore said to Snape. “I tried to read them … I couldn’t get in. All I saw was green, almost like I couldn’t get past their eyes. I don’t know what that could possibly indicate, if there’s some sort of lock on their minds or …” He trailed off as he pondered the matter.

“I highly doubt they will return to the Dursleys this Summer. They were very clearly only saying what we wanted to hear,” Snape said.

“It is no matter. We will just have to ensure that they go there when they get off the train. Please keep an eye on them, Severus. Let me know if anything else odd happens.”


	6. Screaming Plants and Screeching Pixies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hectic first day for the Twins. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'm loving all the comments :)

< Ugh, double Herbology and double Defence with the Gryffs, > Hermione groaned, as she shoved toast into her mouth. < And Transfiguration with the Claws. >

< Remind me who we’re supposed to be sitting with, according to your make-friends-plan, > said a bleary-eyed Harry.

< Neville for Herbology. I’m thinking … Theo and Tracey for Transfiguration, and … Draco and Daphne for Defence, > Hermione rattled off.

Harry gave her a long look. < You just listed names that are alliterative, Mi. >

< Well, gotta pick them somehow, > she said defensively.

< Sure you don’t want Pansy for Potions too? > he said snidely. < Or why not pick them in alphabetical order instead? >

< Eat your stupid breakfast and shut your mouth, we’re going to be late, > Hermione snapped as Harry laughed.

-/-

They left the castle, crossed the vegetable patch and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. As they neared the greenhouses, they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. They had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. There were a few sighs from various classmates at the sight. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

“Oh, hello there!” Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students. “Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to look after a Venomous Tentacula. But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels …”

“Greenhouse Three today, chaps!” said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before – Greenhouse Three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer, mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Hermione grabbed Neville and dragged him over to a bench with Harry. “It’s so good to see you again, Nev,” she whispered.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench. “Now,” she said, “we’ll be re-potting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

Hermione elbowed Neville hard in the ribs and gave him a meaningful look, before pushing his hand up in the air before he could stop her.

“Ah, yes, Neville,” Professor Sprout called out. Neville looked around helplessly as Hermione nodded at him.

“M-m-mandrakes are sentient plants,” he stuttered out, eyes wide. “The r-r-roots start out as babies and then mature. When they are mature, their cries are fatal. Umm, they’re used in p-p-potions as a powerful restorative potion for people who’ve been cursed.” His face was bright red by the end.

Hermione had a big smile on her face. < I’m going to make Neville more confident, > she said. < I’ve got a plan. >

< Any alliteration in this plan? > Harry mocked.

Meanwhile, Professor Sprout had smiled widely at Neville and awarded him ten points.

“Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young, so their cries won’t kill you yet, but they will knock you out for several hours,” she said, pointing to a row of deep trays as she spoke. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. “Everyone please take a pair of earmuffs and make sure your ears are completely covered. When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs up.”

They snapped the earmuffs over their ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a pink fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly screaming at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. She dusted off her hands and gave them all a thumbs up, removing her own earmuffs. “We’ll be re-potting these today so make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work,” she said.

Hermione turned to Neville while Harry grabbed their tray of plants. “Herbology is your best subject, Nev. I know you topped the year in it, so you’re going to start being more confident and start answering questions,” she said.

“It’s best to just bow and say ‘Yes, Your Majesty’,” Harry said, putting the plants down.

After that, they didn’t have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes, who did not like coming out of the earth and seemed to like going back into it even less.

< Gods, the temptation to just push Weasley’s earmuffs off just a fraction, > Hermione said as she fought to shove a particularly chubby root baby into a pot.

-/-

Theo looked confused when Harry sat down next to him in Transfiguration. “…Potter,” he said, inclining his head.

“Nott,” replied Harry.

“Is your sister ok?” he asked, swivelling his head around.

Harry resisted the urge to groan out loud, sending a jolt down the bond to Hermione. “I’m going to be painfully honest, which I’m aware is not really the Slytherin way. We’re trying to branch out and sit with other people, instead of being in our own world,” he said.

“Oh,” Theo said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well in that case, I’m happy to be your partner in Transfiguration, Potter.”

“Call me Harry,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. < Mission accomplished, I’ve made a friend, Mi. >

-/-

< Can we just grab some fruit? I wanna go sit out in the sun and not talk to people, > Hermione said as the lunch bell rang.

< Was Tracey not nice to you? > Harry said, the bond humming more intensely.

< No, calm down, she was actually really nice. I’m just out of practice, > she replied.

< Yeah, thankfully Theo is a quiet guy, > Harry said. < It’s weirdly hard to talk out loud so much. >

They grabbed some food and headed outside into the sunny courtyard. Hermione immediately buried her nose in a textbook, absentmindedly picking out grapes to eat. Harry leant back and, safe with his sister, closed his eyes.

A while later, the sun shifting behind the clouds, Harry became aware that they were being closely watched. Gazing up at the sky and then back nonchalantly, he saw a very small, mousey-haired boy staring at them as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera.

< Noticed, have you? > Hermione said, not lifting her head up from the book. < He’s been staring for a while. >

< Why? > Harry said, wrinkling his brow.

< Fuck knows. Feel free to ask, > she replied, tucking her hair behind her ears, head still resolutely down. < Or feel free to tell him to fuck off. It’s rude to stare. >

Harry looked up and made eye contact with the small boy who immediately went bright red but stepped forward.

“All right, Harry? Hermione? I’m Colin Creevey,” he said breathlessly, taking another tentative step forward. “I’m in Gryffindor. I tried to get into Slytherin like you, but the Hat said it wasn’t the right place for me. D’you think – would it be all right if – can I have a picture?” he said, raising the camera hopefully.

“A picture?” Harry said, flashing back to Lockhart’s death grip on him. Hermione looked up incredulously.

“So I can prove I’ve met you two,” Colin said eagerly. “I know all about you. I read all the books. About how you survived when You Know Who tried to kill you both and how he disappeared and everything and about the lightning scar on your foreheads.” He took a great shuddering breath of excitement, oblivious to the growing looks of horror on the twins’ faces. “It’s brilliant here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he’s so proud of me for coming here. So, do you think I could get a picture with you, and maybe you could sign it?” He grinned brightly at the pair.

< You better start talking or I’m going to tell this fucking twat exactly what I think of him, > Hermione said furiously. < How does he know the shape of our scars? What the hell kind of books are out there? >

“Signed photos?” came Ron Weasley’s mocking voice, before Harry could say anything. “Everyone queue up, the famous Potter snakes are giving out signed photos!” The rest of the courtyard turned to look at them.

“Shut the fuck up, Weasley,” retorted Hermione. “And you, Colin Creepy, or whatever it was. Go and read about someone else and leave us alone.” She turned to put her books away. < You should have let me knock Weasley's earmuffs off. He'd still be unconscious then. > She made to leave when Gilderoy Lockhart appeared. 

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” he said, striding towards them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Hermione tried to flee but Lockhart flung an arm around her and Harry and thundered jovially, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again!” He turned to Colin and beamed at him. “Come on then, Mr Creevey, a double portrait, and we’ll all sign it for you.”

< How did we end up in this position again? > Harry fumed, still trying to escape Lockhart’s iron grip.

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.

“Off you go, move along there,” Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle, his arms still around Harry and Hermione who were currently debating different curses they could use.

“Now, you two. When I heard that – well, of course, it’s all my fault. I knew at once why you were doing it. Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I?” said Lockhart. “Gave you the bug. But let me give you some advice. Handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible – looks a tag bigheaded, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but –“ he ruffled both their heads, “well, I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

They had reached his classroom and he finally let them go. Hermione was, unusually for her, speechless with fury, the bond practically on flames. Harry dragged her to the seats at the back of the classroom, where he busied himself with piling all seven of Lockhart’s books in front of him, so that he wouldn’t have to look at the real thing.

Once that was done, he turned to his sister and grabbed her hand. < Mi Mi, let it go. Look at me, we can’t curse him in the middle of class. We can get revenge later. > Squeezing his hand, she slowly let the bond settle back down.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville’s copy of _Travels with Trolls_ and held it up to show his own, winking portrait. It was at that moment that Harry realised the rest of the room was full of various portraits of the man, all wearing that same infuriating toothy grin. He looked around aghast.

“Me,” Lockhart said, pointing at it and winking, “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five times winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most-Charming Smile Award – but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon banshee by smiling at her!”

He laughed, looking around the room, waiting for them to laugh. Silence rung through the room.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books – well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about – just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in …” He handed out the test papers before returning to the front of the class. “You have thirty minutes. Start – now!”

Hermione loudly snorted when she read the first question. < What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour? Gods and Satan and Jesus and even Thor above, I will never possess the patience for this level of bullshit narcissism. >

< There are three fucking pages, > Harry said, flicking through them. < Is this a joke? >

< It’s something alright. On the plus side, I know exactly how I’m going to get revenge on this peacock, > Hermione said, the bond humming along with her. < Oh, that balding curse is the gift that keeps giving. In the meantime, we need to figure out how destroy portraits. > She smiled her mean little snake smile at Harry.

They spent the rest of the half hour brainstorming, resolutely not answering a single question on the quiz. After it, Lockhart collected in the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

“Tut, tut – hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in Year with a Yeti. And a few of you need to read Weekend with a Werewolf more carefully – I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples – though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!”

He gave them another roguish wink. Half the Gryffindors were shaking with silent laughter while the Slytherins were staring with looks of disbelief and scorn.

“So, to business …” He bent down behind the desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it. “Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

< Unless Voldemort wants to show his ugly face, my worst fear is already in the room, > Hermione said, staring with disdain at Lockhart.

“I must ask you not to scream,” said Lockhart in a low voice. “It might provoke them.” As the class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

“Yes,” he said dramatically. “Freshly caught Cornish pixies.”

Seamus Finnegan couldn’t control himself. He let out of a snort of laughter which even Lockhart couldn’t mistake for a scream of terror. “They’re not – they’re not very,” Seamus choked out between laughs, “they’re not very dangerous, are they?”

“Don’t be so sure!” said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!”

Hermione was staring at him in contempt. < I mean, yes, they’re fucking annoying pests. Guess it takes one to know one. Me Me, if he lets them out, we should immediately just run away. They’re not dangerous, per se, they just destroy everything in their path. >

< Yes! > Harry said. < Finally, a plan that involves running away. >

< We could also just set them on fire, > Hermione remarked.

< No, no. No takebacks. I am ready to flee this hellhole of a class, > Harry said, peering around his stack of books to examine the pixies. They were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

“Right then,” Lockhart said loudly. “Let’s see what you make of them!” And he opened the cage.

It was instant pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. Harry wasted no time; the moment Lockhart had opened the cage door, he’d jerked Hermione out of her seat and had sprinted for the door.

< Sorry, Nev, > Hermione said, glancing back at Neville who was now swinging from the candelabra. Harry slammed the door shut, grabbed Hermione’s hand again, and kept sprinting.

< I can’t wait to curse this guy bald, Mi Mi, > he said.


	7. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the all the lovely comments y'all :)
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >   
> Parseltongue is in italics 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

Harry was on cloud nine. < I’m the Slytherin seeker, I’m the Slytherin seeker, > he said in a sing-song voice. < I’m the Slytherin seeker, yeah, I’m the Slytherin seeker. >

< They’ll be seeking for you down the bottom of the lake if you don’t shut up, > Hermione sniped.

< Say what you like, but I can feel how proud you are of me, it’s humming through the bond, > Harry said, nudging her with his Nimbus.

< Stupid telepathic bond, > she grumbled, trudging through the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut.

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid’s house when the front door opened, but it wasn’t Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

< Fuck no, > Harry said, immediately shoving Hermione behind the nearest bush. He leapt in behind her, landing on top of her. A mishmash of limbs later and they peeked their heads around to check.

< These are nice robes, > Hermione whinged, brushing dirt and leaves off.

“It’s a simple matter if you know what you’re doing!” Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. “If you need help, you know where I am! I’ll let you have a copy of my book – I’m surprised you haven’t already got one. I’ll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!” And he strode away towards the castle.

< Lucky Hagrid, > Harry said, dripping sarcasm. They waited until Lockhart was out of sight before knocking on the front door.

Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was. “Hullo! ‘Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me – come in, come in – sorry, thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again.”

Hermione mimed gagging and Hagrid chuckled.

“What did Lockhart want with you anyway, Hagrid?” Harry asked, scratching Fang’s ears as the big dog slobbered on him.

“Givin’ me advice on getting’ kelpies out of a well,” growled Hagrid, bustling around making tea. “Like I don’ know. An’ bangin’ on about some Banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I’ll eat my kettle.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. It was most unlike Hagrid to criticise a Hogwarts teacher. “Why are we stuck with him then, Hagrid? He’s an awful teacher,” she said.

“He was the on’y man for the job,” said Hagrid, pouring the tea. “An’ I mean the on’y one. Getting’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No-one’s lasted long fer more than a year fer a while now.”

Harry cut off Hermione before she could start to complain. “I have exciting news. I made the Quidditch team!”

“Well done, Harry! Yer parents would be proud, yer dad was on the team when he was in school,” Hagrid said beaming. “Say, I’ve heard you two’ve bin givin’ out signed photos. Is this why? How come I haven’ go’ one?”

“We have **not** been giving out signed photos,” they said hotly, sharing furious glances.

“If Lockhart’s still putting that about –“ Harry broke off when he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

“I’m on’y jokin’,” he said, patting Hermione on the back and sending her face first into the table. “I knew yehs hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yers more famous than him without tryin’.”

“Bet he didn’t like that,” Hermione said, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. < Stop laughing, Me, or I’ll tell Hagrid to shove you into the table. >

“Don’ think he did,” said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. “An’ then I told him I’d never read one o’ his books an’ he decided ter go.”

“That’s the secret, is it? Wonder if he’ll never talk to us again if we tell him his books are rubbish?” Hermione said.

As lunchtime approached, they said goodbye to Hagrid and walked back up the castle.

They had barely set foot in the cool Entrance Hall when a voice rang out. “Potter, Potter.” Professor Snape was walking towards them, looking menacing as always. “You will both do your detentions this evening.”

< Gods, on a fucking Saturday night? > Hermione grumbled. < I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – what the fuck kinda school? >

“What are we doing, Professor?” asked Harry nervously. < Are there other magic schools? >

< Of course there are. There aren’t only witches and wizards in Britain. Unfortunately, we don’t speak French, Beauxbatons is the closest other school. >

< What about Australia? Heard it’s nice and sunny down there, > Harry said.

< I don’t know actually, > Hermione replied. < Maybe I’ll look into it. >

“You will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fanmail,” Snape said, grinning meanly at the horrified looks on their faces. “Oh yes, and may I say, you deserve this. Eight o’clock sharp.” At that, he swept away.

< What a git, > Harry said. < Kill me, Mi Mi. A whole fucking evening with Lockhart? >

< Gods, I miss the good old detentions of Voldemort trying to murder us in the forest, > Hermione said, slouching into the Great Hall in a state of deep gloom.

-/-

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was ten minutes to eight, and Harry was dragging Hermione along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart’s office.

< Just let me break your arm, Me Me, > she whined. < Madam Pomfrey will fix it up quickly and it’ll be less painful than an evening with Lockhart. >

Harry scowled at her before knocking on Lockhart’s office. The door flew open at once and Lockhart beamed down at the pair.

“Here are the scallywags,” he said, somehow showing off all his teeth. “Come in, come in.”

< Think of it as doing reconnoitre for when we get revenge on him, > Harry said. He refrained from rolling his eyes at how much that perked his sister up.

< You’re right, Me, > she said. < This is an opportunity. A horrible, painful opportunity > She entered the room and groaned over the bond at the countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile of photographs lay on his desk. < Does he forget what he looks like? How does he sleep with all these Lockhart-ghouls staring down at him? >

Harry was similarly disgusted. < I bet Voldemort doesn’t have pictures of himself everywhere. >

< I suppose Lockhart doesn’t have a snake nose, > Hermione said. < I’ll give him that. >

“Harry, you can address the envelopes!” Lockhart said, as though this was a huge treat. “Hermione, you can put the end product into the envelopes and seal them. This first ones to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her – huge fan of mine.”

< She’s going on the revenge list too, > Hermione griped. < We know where she lives now. >

The minutes crawled by. They let Lockhart’s voice wash over them, occasionally throwing out a ‘Mmm’ or ‘Right’ or ‘Yeah’. Now and then they caught a phrase like, ‘Fame’s a fickle friend!’ or ‘Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that’. They spent the time noting, back and forth over the bond, all the features of the room, and Hermione used an excuse to go to the bathroom in order to sneak around further.

By the time the candles had burned low, they had a decent mind map of the entire office and where Lockhart kept everything. Harry felt he’d completely lost his mind in the process. He moves his aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley’s address. < Fuck me dead, Mi. It must be nearly time to leave, > he said miserably.

And then they heard something – something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart’s never-ending prattle about his fans.

It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone-marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

_“Come … come to me … let me rip you … let me tear you … let me kill you …”_

Harry and Hermione both started at the voice, turning to stare at each other with wide eyes. They turned to stare at Lockhart who continued to sign the photos as though nothing had happened. He looked up and took in their faces.

“I know!” he said. “Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list. Broke all records!”

< Fuck this idiot, > Hermione said.

“Didn’t you hear that voice, Professor?” Harry asked curiously.

< I don’t think he can hear anything over his ginormously inflated ego, > Hermione grumbled.

“What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you’re getting a little drowsy … Great Scott – look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! Time flies when you’re having fun,” Lockhart chuckled.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. < Absolutely not, > Harry said. < Disembodied voices that Lockhart can’t hear – no, thank you. >

< Yeah, it doesn’t really fit in with the whole ‘have a normal year and make friends’ plan, does it? > Hermione said.


	8. Male Bonding ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. It's my day off and I'm ignoring my responsibilities. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

“Come on, Potter. Quidditch training,” said Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin team. Harry looked up from breakfast, spoon still in his mouth.

< We don’t have the pitch booked though, > he said, confused.

< You didn’t say that out loud, you idiot, > Hermione replied, turning to look at him.

< I’ve got food in my mouth, > he said plaintively.

She rolled her eyes at him. “We didn’t think you had the pitch booked this morning,” she said, turning back to Flint, who gave a mean grin, showing all his teeth.

“We don’t, the Gryffindors do. But I’ve got a special little note from Professor Snape giving us permission,” he chuckled. “So hurry up.”

-/-

Hermione took a seat in the stand, quietly resigning herself to a future that involved team sports. The Slytherin team in their green robes were walking onto the pitch, with their new broomsticks in hand. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. < I know he’s not bad at quidditch, > she said. < But like, really? He gets on and you all get brand new expensive brooms that are top of the market. >

< You can have my Nimbus 2000, > Harry said.

< Not at all the point. Anyway, heads up, you’ve got incoming, > she said.

Several red-robed flyers had shot towards the Slytherins as they walked onto the pitch. She could hear them yelling from the stand.

“Flint!” Wood bellowed at the Captain. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!”

“Plenty of room for all of us, Wood,” Flint replied, grinning at everyone. The rest of the Gryffindor team joined their captain on the ground.

“But I booked the pitch!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I booked it!”

“Ah,” said Flint, thoroughly enjoying himself, “but I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practise today on the Quidditch pitch owing to the need to train their new Seeker and Chaser'.”

“You’ve got new members?” asked Wood, distracted. “Who?”

Harry and Draco stepped out from behind the hulking Beaters, Derrick and Bole.

“Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” asked one of the Weasley twins, looking at Draco with intense dislike.

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” said Flint, as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.” At that, all seven of the team held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words ‘Nimbus Two Thousand and One’ gleamed under the Gryffindor’s noses in the early morning sun.

“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” Flint said, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from his broom. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps,” he smiled nastily at the Weasley twins who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives, “sweeps the board with them.”

“At least no-one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” spat one of the Weasley twins. “We got in on pure talent.”

Harry focussed on keeping a very blank face as Hermione laughed loudly through the bond. < I mean, he does have a point, > she said, in between giggles.

“No-one asked your opinion, you filthy blood traitor,” Draco spat.

Harry made a face. < What the fuck is a blood traitor? > he asked, before his reflexes kicked in and he stepped backwards as Fred and George jumped on Malfoy. < Fucking hell. >

Before he could say anything, it was an all-out brawl with every member of the team except for him pounding on each other. Wood and Flint were rolling around on the ground, limbs flailing, and Flint appeared to be biting the Gryffindor captain.

< This is madness, > Harry said, looking around in vague amusement crossed with concern.

< I'll definitely come if this is what every Quidditch practice is going to be like, > Hermione said, as she approached the brawl. < Should we pitch in? >

< Fuck no. I’m not getting another detention with Lockhart, > Harry said.

< Yeah, but like team bonding, you know. Do you think the team might not like it that you’re not whaling on the Gryffs? > Hermione asked. < I think guys bond like this. >

< Gods, fine, > Harry said, pulling out his wand. Taking careful aim, he stunned both Weasley twins and Wood while Hermione caught on and quickly stunned the Chasers and Seeker. < Happy? I feel really bonded now. >

-/-

They were in the library that afternoon with Neville, going over their devilishly tricky homework. Snape, in particular, seemed to delight in giving them ludicrously hard homework.

“Neville,” Harry began. “What’s a blood traitor?”

Neville looked up from his essay with wide eyes, before furtively looking around the library, which was relatively empty.

“You can’t just say things like that so loudly,” he whispered.

“Ok,” Hermione whispered. “What’s a blood traitor?”

Neville looked between the two of them. “You really don’t know? You’re not just asking to be mean?” he asked nervously.

“Gods no, Neville,” Hermione said quickly. “We’re really sorry, we would never want to hurt you.” She looked over worriedly at Harry. < Help me, > she said.

“Malfoy called one of the Weasley twins a blood traitor at Quidditch practice today,” he said steadily. “We’ve never heard that term before, we don’t know what it means. Would you please explain it to us, Nev? We swear we’re not asking to be mean to you.”

Neville relaxed in his chair. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have even thought it. It’s a bit of a taboo topic really. It’s not something really said in polite society. So, in our society, we have Purebloods, Halfbloods, and Muggle-born. Purebloods have magical parents and grandparents. Halfbloods have one magical parent and one Muggle parent. Muggle-born obviously have two Muggle parents. The Pureblood consider themselves the elite, and within the Purebloods, is the elite of the elite, which is the Sacred 28. It’s a list of 28 Pureblood families who were listed in the Pureblood Director by Cantankerous Nott. Purebloods who have pro-Muggleborn or pro-Muggle views are considered to be blood traitors by other Purebloods, because they believe that Muggles and Muggle-borns are lesser. Sometimes they’ll call them –“ at this his voice became barely a whisper – “Mudbloods. It’s a really bad word. They think they have dirty blood.”

“What are we?” Hermione asked.

“You’re considered Halfbloods because your Mum was Muggle-born. Your kids will be considered Pureblood though,” Neville said. “Pretty much everyone will overlook that for you two though, because you’re Potters, which is a famous last name, and then you’re also both famous in your own right.”

“Well, this isn’t right at all. How can they think Muggle-borns have dirty blood? That doesn’t even make any sense,” Hermione raged. < This isn’t right, Me. This is fucked up. Fucking hell, we really were just living in a fucking daze last year, weren’t we? How do we not know about this? >

< Well, we did have Voldemort hanging over our heads, and we thought Snape was an evil git. Although, I still think he’s an evil git, actually, > he said.

< Is this what our friends think? > Hermione said.

< Well, I don’t, and Neville doesn’t. So we’ve got that going for us, I guess, > he replied.

“It was kind of the basis for the whole Wizarding War that we just had,” Neville said. “Most of You-Know-Who’s supporters are Purebloods, and He supported Muggle-hunting.”

Harry felt the bond start to ripple and spark as Hermione got more furious. “Thank you for educating us, Neville. We’re going to go now, before Hermione explodes. See you in class!” At that, he abruptly dragged Hermione off, leaving Neville sitting there. < Calm down, Mi Mi. Look at me, we can add this to our revenge list, alright, and when we’re older, we can fix this. First, we’ve got to survive this school which has so far tried to kill us twice. >

Hermione tightly squeezed his hands and let the bond settle back down. < There’s a lot of people on our list, > she said.

< Well, we already killed Quirrell with our bare hands, what’s a few more, > Harry joked, putting his arm around her.


	9. Hell to Halloween II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halloween  
> Always a dreadful time for the Twins
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >

< I vote we go to the Halloween feast this year, > Harry said as they made their way to the library.

< You don’t want to get attacked by a troll again? > Hermione asked.

< Oh yes, that near-death experience was hilarious, > Harry sniped. < I heard there’s going to be a - >

< Let’s sit with the Ravenclaws, > Hermione interrupted.

< \- a troupe of dancing skeletons, > Harry finished. < No, never mind me speaking. Why the Ravenclaws? >

Hermione gave him a look. < Because we’re trying to make new friends remember. And now we’re fucking iffy about some of our House mates because they might hate our mother because she’s Muggleborn. Ringing any bells? >

< They can’t change if we don’t be friends with them and make them change, > Harry reminded her.

< Yeah, well. Making other friends is still part of the plan. Over there is Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurt, Michael Corner, and Padma Patil. They’re the smartest Claws, they came the closest to beating us last year, > Hermione said.

Harry gave a big sigh. < Alright, Mi. Let’s go and sit with them. > He tried to look casual as he approached their table which was piled high with textbooks. “Hi,” he said. “We were wondering if we could sit with you guys?” They all turned to look at him. “Umm, I’m Harry and this is my sister, Hermione.” She gave a small wave.

Michael Corner snorted at that, an odd look on his face. “Everyone knows who you are,” he said.

“Why do you even want to sit with us?” Mandy asked.

Harry was a bit stumped at that. < I don’t have an answer that doesn’t make us look deranged. Yes, hello, we’re trying to make friends. We’re really bad at it because we spent our formative years trapped in a cupboard. Also, we’re worried our Housemates are blood supremacists. Ha ha ha, so can we sit here? >

< Shut up, > Hermione snapped, before smiling at the Ravenclaws. “Well, we all do well in classes so we thought it might be fun to study together,” she offered.

“Oh, well thank you for noticing that we do well in classes,” Mandy said, giving a fake laugh. “Not that it even matters, though.”

“What does that mean?” Hermione said, a slightly harsh note entering her voice. < What the fuck does she mean by that? >

“It means,” began Anthony coolly, “that we can work hard all year and do well in class, along with the rest of our House, and it doesn’t even matter, because the heroic Potter twins will swoop in at the end and get 100 points out of nowhere for … what was it?”

“Pure nerve,” Terry chimed in mockingly.

“Don’t forget determination,” added Michael.

< Are we being bullied? > Harry asked. < It feels like we’re being bullied. It’s just way more subtle and clever than anything Dudley could come up with. >

“We didn’t ask for that,” Hermione said slowly. “But we sure as fuck earned it. We’re terribly sorry that Quirrell trying to murder us really inconvenienced you. We sure found it an inconvenience too.”

“Pull the other one,” Padma said. “No-one actually believes that, you know.

< I didn’t know that, > Hermione said, fuming. < Why the fuck would we lie about that? > The ends of her hair were starting to spark.

< We almost fucking died, and they don’t believe it? Fuck these guys, > Harry said.

“Well this has been a fun conversation. Clearly, I was incorrect in my assessment that you lot were intelligent, my mistake. You can go fuck yourselves now,” Hermione snapped, whirling around and marching out of the library.

“What she said,” Harry said before chasing after her. < Wait up, Mi Mi. >

The bond was roiling, green sparks showering between them, as he caught up to her. < It’s fucking bullshit, > she said. < We didn’t ask for any of that. >

< Reckon we can just live in our heads again? > Harry asked. < This whole making friends thing kinda sucks. >

< What’s wrong with us? > she asked quietly.

Harry gave her a hug. < Nothing is wrong with us, Mi heart. What do we have? >

< Just me and mine, > she sniffed. < Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’m not going to the Feast. >

Harry longingly thought of all the Halloween sweets before following after her.

-/-

< Shall we go back to the Common Room now? > Harry asked, as they wandered down the stairs. < I’m properly freezing. > They’d spent most of the evening up on the Astronomy tower, looking up at the stars and crescent moon.

< Yeah, that sounds nice. The fire should be going in the Common Room. I just need to pee first, > she said.

< Alright, > he said, stopping.

< Why are you stopping? >

< So you can pee! There’s a bathroom just there, > he said, perplexed.

< I’m not going in there, > she said in disgust.

< Gods, there’s not going to be another troll, Mi, > he said exasperated.

< No, that’s Moaning Myrtle’s toilet, > Hermione said.

< Who? > Harry asked.

< Moaning Myrtle. She haunts that girls’ toilet, > she replied.

< She haunts a toilet? What’s wrong with her? >

< She’s properly mental. It’s been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never go in there if I can avoid it. >

< Gods, fine. Just hold it in. You can pee back in the dormitory, > he said, dragging her away before any mental ghosts appeared.

They’d nearly made it to the dungeons when they heard it again.

_“… rip … tear … kill …”_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice they had heard in Lockhart’s office. They looked at each other in horror, stumbling to a halt, looking around.

_“… soo hungry … for so long … kill … time to kill …”_

The voice was growing fainter, seemed to be moving away, moving upwards.

< Come on, > Hermione said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs. They sprinted past the Great Hall and up the marble staircase to the first floor.

They strained their ears and, distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, they heard the voice: _“… I smell blood … I SMELL BLOOD!”_

< It’s going to fucking kill someone, > Hermione shrieked, pulling out her wand and sprinting up the next flight of steps. They hurtled around the whole of the second floor, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

< Where’d it go? > Harry said, looking around. He closed his eyes, trying to spread his senses out. He was interrupted by Hermione shrieking down the bond. He followed where her trembling hand was pointing.

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached, slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

< Oh no, > Hermione breathed. < No, this is bad. We can’t - >

< What is that thing – hanging underneath? > Harry interrupted. He edged nearer, and almost slipped over. There was a large puddle of water on the floor. Hermione grabbed him, keeping him upright, as they peered forward. They realised what it was at once and leapt backwards with a splash.

Mrs Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

< We need to leave, > Hermione whispered. < That's a dead cat and that sign's written in blood. We can’t be found here. > She started dragging Harry away.

It was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the Feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people. The next thing they knew, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

< Fuck, fuck fuck, > Hermione swore. Harry was similarly panicking. There was no escape.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students, some of them pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

They saw Neville’s pale face, tight with worry as he took the scene in. Hermione noted with disgust that the Ravenclaws looked meanly pleased at their predicament. Then someone shouted through the quiet.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

It was Draco Malfoy who has pushed to the front of the crowd, his face flushed, as he grinned at the twins.


	10. Prattling Professors and Petrifications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait to completely do nothing productive in this week of leave except update this fanfiction. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?”

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy’s shout, Argus Filch, the caretaker, came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs Norris?” he shrieked.

< He wouldn’t kill us in front of all these people, would he? > Harry said, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, as Filch’s eyes fell on them.

“You two!” he screeched. “You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her. I’ll kill you!” He lurched towards them, arms outstretched.

< Yes, he would, is the answer to that, > Hermione, trying to drag Harry backwards, slipping slightly in the puddle.

“Argus!”

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry and Hermione and detached Mrs Norris from the torch bracket.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. He turned to the still-lingering crowd. “Back to your Common Rooms at once.” He turned back to Harry and Hermione who were subtly trying to leave. “You two will come with me as well,” he said.

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. “My office is nearest, Headmaster – just upstairs – please feel free –“

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore.

< Filch, Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Lockhart. Talk about the world’s worst dinner party, > Harry said, as they mutely followed the professors.

< We are so fucked, > Hermione said.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office, there was a flurry of movement across the walls; they saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. He suppressed a snort at the sight. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry and Hermione exchanged tense looks, the bond humming nervously.

The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs Norris’s fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them like an annoying gnat, making suggestions.

“It was definitely a curse that killed her – probably the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there, I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her,” Lockhart trilled.

< More like unlucky that whatever it was didn’t kill you, > Harry grumbled.

Lockhart’s comments were punctuated by Filch’s dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs Norris, his face in his hands. Hermione felt a bit sorry for him. She wouldn’t want her baby Kid to be in this position.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs Norris with his wand, but nothing happened: she continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

< What are we going to say? > Hermione asked. 

< You don't think they'll go for 'we heard a creepy voice in the walls that no-one else can hear'? > Harry said. 

< I'm confident that hearing voices is considered loony in both the magical and muggle world, > Hermione replied. < The truth will certainly not set us free. >

< Well, the dead parent excuse worked well last year, > Harry said glumly. < We could try that one again. >

< And we just happened onto the scene of the crime? Gods, we’re fucked, > Hermione sighed.

“… I remember something very similar happening in Ougadogou,” Lockhart continued, “a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography. I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once…”

< Please someone shut him up, > Harry said tiredly, watching all the photographs of Lockhart on the walls nod along in agreement to the never-ending story.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. “She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented, saving Harry from having to prevent Hermione from murdering the professor.

“Not dead?” choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs Norris. “But why’s she all – all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore.

“Ah, I thought so!” chirped in Lockhart.

“But how I cannot say,” Dumbledore continued over Lockhart.

“Ask them!” shrieked Filch, turning his tear-stained face to the twins.

“No second year could have done this,” Dumbledore said firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-“

“They did it! I know they did. Skulking around in the corridors. You saw what they wrote on the wall!” Filch spat.

“We never touched Mrs Norris!” Harry and Hermione chorused, glancing at each other to avoid everyone else looking at them.

“Why were you in that corridor then? Why weren’t you at the Halloween feast?” McGonagall asked.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other again. “The same reason as last year, Professor McGonagall,” Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore was giving them a searching look, flicking between their eyes. “Innocent until proven guilty,” he said firmly after a few minutes.

“My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieked, his eyes bulging. “I want to see some punishment!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore said patiently. “Madam Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Mrs Norris.”

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times, I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-“

“Excuse me,” Snape said icily, “but I believe I am the Potions master at this school.”

There was a very awkward pause at that. Hermione and Harry giggled at each other over the bond.

“You may go,” Dumbledore said, nodding at Harry and Hermione. They politely nodded back before quickly fleeing, not stopping until they were far away, in an empty corridor.

< Why are we hearing this voice? > Harry asked. < What is it? >

< Hogwarts, a History, > Hermione replied. Harry blinked at the non-sequitur. < It mentions the Chamber of Secrets. I can’t remember exactly what it says. >

< To the trunk! > Harry said, pulling her along.


	11. Myths and Histories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a wee bit pleased with this chapter so I hope y'all are too. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

The Slytherin Common Room fell silent as they entered, and everyone turned to look at them.

< Ah, > said Hermione. < Right. The whole school saw us in front of a creepy sign and a dead-looking cat. >

“House Meeting,” called the seventh year Prefect, Belladonna Burke. “Everyone’s here now.”

“I don’t think we need to have a meeting. It’s pretty clear what is happening,” piped up a fifth-year. At that, everyone in the Common Room turned again to look at the twins.

< You’re up, > Hermione said. < I don’t have the patience to explain this. >

“Ohh,” Harry said. “Well, err … we didn’t do that. We just happened upon it.”

< Oh, very good. Very convincing, > Hermione mocked, mentally pinching her brow.

“You just happened upon a once-in-a-lifetime scene while everyone else was at the Halloween feast?” asked Burke in a sceptical voice. 

< Yes, > Harry said. < We were very sad because some Ravenclaws didn’t want to be friends with us. >

“What do you mean by once-in-a-lifetime?” Hermione asked. “It’s not that hard to kill a cat. Also, the cat isn’t dead. It’s Petrified according to Dumbledore. Also, we didn’t do it.”

Harry barely held back an incredulous look. < Oh, yes. I wasn’t convincing enough. Meanwhile, you’re just confessing to murdering cats. >

“The Chamber of Secrets,” replied Burke. “We all know the legend.”

< Do you know the legend? > Harry asked.

< Have you got the memory of a goldfish? > Hermione bitched. < I can’t remember, that’s why I was trying to get to the trunk. >

< No need to be mean, > Harry said. < You got the brains, I just got everything else. >

“Tell us the story, Bella,” piped up one of her friends. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“This is a House Meeting! Not a campfire and –“ Before she could say anything further, other people were calling out, begging her to tell the story. “Gods, fine. Everyone be quiet then.”

Silence rung through the room as Belladonna took a seat close to the fire, the flames throwing shadows against her face. The rest of the House settled into comfortable positions, leaning in closely.

“Over a thousand years ago, the four greatest witches and wizards of the age came together to found the greatest magical school. You know their names. Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw. They built this castle together, far from the prying eyes of Muggles, for as it is now, so it was then, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution if they were found. The founders worked in harmony for the first few years, seeking out children who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But those happy times were not meant to last.”

Burke paused at that, looking slowly around the room as the fire crackled behind her. The silence hung heavy over the crowd.

“Our great founder, Salazar Slytherin, was a prodigal wizard, skilled in what is now foolishly called the Dark Arts as well as Legilimency, Wandlore, and Parselmagic. This is well-known in our world. What is not as well known is that he was a husband and a father. His famed beauteous wife Lady Viviana bore him three children – Cesar, Cenric, and his beloved daughter Valentina. All three of them had come through Hogwarts and it was here, in these very halls, that Valentina met the love of her life, Beckett Byrde. It should have been a glorious time for the family. But Byrde was Muggle-born and when he took our dear sweet Valentina home with him to meet his parents, the whole village was waiting for them. They cut her hands off. They plucked her eyes out. And then, they burnt her at the stake. She died screaming, her pure blood dripping down her face.”

Bella paused again, taking a slow sip of water. No-one in the room dared to move a muscle, waiting for her to continue with the story.

“The death of Valentina broke her father’s heart, for he was not there for her when she needed him most. He vowed that he would not fail another innocent the way that he had failed Valentina. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the other founders as a result of this. He wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts, didn’t want students of Muggle parentage to be allowed in unless they forsook their origins, as he rightly believed them to be untrustworthy. Rightly believed them to be dangerous. It is said that the rift came to blows between Slytherin and Gryffindor on Halloween after a ritual to reach through the Veil failed to give him a glimpse of his beloved daughter. Gryffindor viewed such magic as unnatural, and the long simmering argument boiled over as they drew wands against each other. Neither could defeat the other or sway the other to their argument. Slytherin left the school.”

She took a deep breath in before continuing. “This is where the legend comes from. Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. On that fateful Halloween night, he sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true Heir arrived at the school. The Heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber and unleash what is within, using it to continue Slytherin’s vow, to purge the school of all unworthy of studying magic. And so, it is said, that once every hundred years, Slytherin’s Heir returns to Hogwarts, and on the night of Halloween - when the Veil that keeps us from our dead is but a gossamer thread - opens the Chamber and unleashes what is within … both the magic and the monster.”

She bowed her head. “And so goes the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, which brings us to today. The Veil is thin, and a crescent moon hangs high in the sky. Valentina reaches out to us as Slytherin’s Heir returns to open the Chamber. The Heir has always been a member of this house and holds the honoured virtue of being descended from our great Founder. Whoever it is, our House will support them, as we have always done.”

Harry noticed that more than half the people in the room had glanced at him and Hermione as Burke finished speaking. < Oh my fucking gods, Mi Mi. They think we’re the Heirs of Slytherin. >

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I took some creative liberties but I am quietly pleased with this.   
> Next chapter should be up soon :)


	12. Parseltongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The House Meeting continues
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is in italics 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

“We’re not the Heirs of Slytherin,” Hermione blurted, feeling vaguely panicked at all the eyes on her. < We’re not, right? >

< How the hell should I know? > Harry said. < We definitely didn’t open the Chamber though. >

“I’ll admit it’s not very Slytherin to get caught at the scene of the crime,” Burke said, “but it matters not. Slytherin House will keep your secret. You’ve clearly already fooled Dumbledore.”

“It’s obvious that you are his Heirs,” piped up Draco. “You carry his gift.” There was a murmur of assent from the other second years.

“What gift?” Harry asked dumbly. Draco stared at him, wrinkling his brow.

“Parselmagic, of course,” he replied.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other years at that and again, all heads turned towards the twins.

< I don’t like this, > Hermione said.

< Really? I’m having a blast, > Harry said sarcastically.

“You can speak Parseltongue?” asked Burke in wonderment. “May we see?”

< This technically counts as making friends, you know, > Harry said. < Maybe this is how we make more friends. >

< They only like us because they think we’re something we’re not, > she exclaimed.

< Please, Mi Mi? > he pleaded. < This might be good for us. We can keep saying that we’re not the Heirs but … well, we can actually speak Parseltongue. >

< Only for you, Me Me, > she conceded, before turning to Burke. “We’re really not the Heirs, but we can show you our Parseltongue. Let me just go and find Kid and Ty.” She slipped through the crowds into the dormitory. Harry felt a glimmer of mischief echo through the bond as she called out for Kid and Ty.

A split second too late he realised what that mischievous feeling meant when people started screaming.

Kid and Ty had plunged down into the Common Room, grown to a ludicrous size, Hermione standing behind them grinning like a loon.

 _“Master Harry,”_ sung Ty. _“Hermione said we should grow really big and meet your friends!”_ His snake coiled his way around various members of Slytherin House, all clearly terrified, on his way to Harry.

 _“Yes, hello Ty. My sister is being an idiot,”_ he said, scritching his snake. He raised his eyes to stare at Hermione. _“Really, sister mine? I said let’s make friends, not let’s give people nightmares.”_

 _“They wanted to see our Parselmagic,”_ she said, shrugging, mischief still pinging over the bond.

 _“Kid, Ty. Could you please ignore my sister and shrink back to normal size? Come over to me, I’ll introduce you to some people. They all think you’re very fearsome and incredible.”_ Harry picked up his snake as he started to shrink. “This is Typhon, he’s an Occamy, so he can grow and shrink as he pleases. I swear he’s harmless and very cute,” he said, showing off his gleaming snake to the now adoring crowd.

 _“You’re no fun,”_ Hermione said, picking up her shrinking snake as well and making her way over to Harry.

The rest of the evening was passed with all the members of Slytherin House becoming acquainted with Kid and Ty who were absolutely preening under the lavish praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I introduced Kid and Ty way back at the start of the first story.  
> But they are sleepy snakes and H&H are awkward ferals who haven't gone around showing their snakes off. They're either snoozing in the trunk (aka BatCave) or snoozing in their pockets most of the time.  
> So, to most of the people in Slytherin House except for the second years, this comes as quite a surprise.


	13. Solving Mysteries and Catching Snitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The twins are auditioning for the Scooby Gang. I'd say Sherlock Holmes but ... well, they're a bit too feral and inept. But they're trying!! 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

The glow Harry and Hermione felt after being accepted by their House, albeit if it was partly because most of them thought they were Slytherin’s Heirs, was short-lived. The next few days, the school could talk of little but the attack on Mrs Norris, and it was very clear that most people thought that the twins had done it.

It wasn’t helped by Filch who kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry and Hermione were careful to avoid the area, although they had spotted Filch scrubbing the message on the wall to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn’t guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like ‘breathing loudly’ and ‘looking happy’.

Harry and Hermione very quickly noticed that people were giving them a wide berth in the corridor and averting their eyes. Some of the younger students had even turned on their heels and ran away at the sight of them. While everyone in Slytherin House was being supportive, the rest of the Houses had made their opinion very clear.

The crowd thinned around them as they left History of Magic. Harry could tell it was really starting to wear on Hermione, the bond humming mournfully between the two of them, so he took a deep breath in before going, < Come on, Mi Mi. We solved the mystery last year. We’ll solve this mystery too. We’re not the Heirs, we know we’re not the Heirs. So we just need to figure out who is. >

Hermione turned around at that, staring at him in amazement. < But we’re supposed to be having a normal year, > she said.

< Yeah, well. That’s already gone to shit, and we haven’t even done anything. At least this isn’t going to be Voldemort. And we’re still learning in classes but we’re sure as shit not being seen as normal and we’re not really making friends. So, fuck it, let’s figure this shit out. We can even get some of our Slytherin friends to help us, maybe. > He watched as a big grin blossomed on Hermione’s face.

< You’re the best brother in the world, Me Me, > she said softly. < Let’s go back to the scene of the crime tonight. >

-/-

Harry was, obviously, thoroughly regretting his decision to be a good brother as they crept along the corridor that night under the Cloak. < I take it back, > he said. < I want to be a terrible brother and not figure out who the Heir is. >

< Too late, Me, > Hermione sung back. < We’re here and we’re going to figure this out. > They turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the corridor where the attack had happened. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall still bearing the message in blood red.

< That’s where Filch has been keeping guard, > Harry muttered. They peeked around the place, but the corridor was deserted so they took the Cloak off. < I already regret this, > he said, dropping to his hands and knees so he could search for clues. < Huh, there are scorch marks. Here – and over here too … >

< Come and look at this, > Hermione said. < This is really weird. > Harry got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack in the glass. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

< What the hell are they doing? I’ve never seen spiders do that before, > Harry said curiously. < And lord, did we live with a lot of them at the Dursleys. >

< Well, spiders are a clue. Now what about all the water? Remember we nearly slipped over in the puddle? > Hermione said, looking around. < It was coming from … > she trailed off as she crept along the corridor.

< Ugh, > she said. < Coming from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. >

< Well, come on. That could be a clue, > Harry said.

< Oh noooo, she’s really annoying, Me, > Hermione whinged. < Deadass really depressing. >

Harry rolled his eyes at her dramatics. < Nice try, Mi, but you’re the one who dragged me out here. > He tugged her along with him, pushing past the large ‘Out of Order’ sign and entering the bathroom.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom either had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked and spotted mirror were a row of chipped, stone sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the cubicles were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

< Now this is charming, > Harry said, wandering around. < Really prime real estate. > He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a ghost floating out of one of the cubicles. She was dressed in a Hogwarts uniform with pigtails and glasses.

“Hello Myrtle,” Harry tried, offering her a soft smile. “How are you?”

“This is a girls’ bathroom,” she replied, eyeing him off suspiciously. “You’re not a girl.”

“That is true,” he said. “My sister wanted to show me how nice this place is and introduce me to you.”

“Why would you want to meet me? No-one ever wants to meet ugly moping Moaning Myrtle!” she screeched, flying towards him. “No-one wanted to meet me in life, my life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death too!”

< Fucking hell, > Harry said, leaning away from the wailing ghost.

< I warned you, > Hermione said uninterestedly, fixing her hair in the mirror. Harry zapped her through the bond, making her jump.

“That sounds really difficult, Myrtle,” Harry said softly. “I’m really sorry that life was so difficult for you. I did really want to meet you. I wanted to ask you if you’d seen anything funny lately. A cat was attacked right outside here on Halloween. Did you see anything that night?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Myrtle said dramatically. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m – that I’m –“

At that, she gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over Harry and vanishing from sight. Harry turned around speechless.

< I think she likes you, > Hermione said. < Genuinely. That was almost cheerful for Myrtle. >

< So we’ve got spiders acting weirdly, scorch marks, and a suicidal ghost? Thank the gods, I was worried this might be a difficult mystery to solve, > Harry said. < What else, Mi? >

< Who could the Heir be? > she mused, leaning against the cracked basin. < It’s supposed to be someone in Slytherin but the whole House seems pretty convinced it’s us. That doesn’t make any sense. >

< Well that’s just part of the legend, isn’t it? Maybe it is someone from another House, > Harry replied. Hermione gave a big gasp and turned grinning at Harry. < Oh no, what? >

< Let’s break into the other Houses. We’ve already done Gryffindor. Let’s see what they’re talking about, > she said, her face lighting up.

-/-

A few hours later, Hermione was sulking in the trunk. < Don’t you even think of saying it, > she snapped.

Harry gave her a very pointed look. < Fine, I won’t dare even think of saying ‘I told you so’, but I will point out that I did very clearly state that we would get nothing out of breaking into the Houses. They all very clearly think we are the Heirs, > he said.

< That’s just you saying ‘I told you so’ in a lot of unnecessary words, > she bit back.

< Relax, would you? It took us a while to solve the whole Voldemort thing last year, and even then, we got the actual person wrong, > Harry said. < Can I beat Gryffindor at Quidditch first? Then we can just straight back into the mystery. >

Hermione gave a big huff. < Quidditch, > she complained.

-/-

Harry woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. He was nervous, mainly at the thought of what the team would say if he failed to catch the snitch. He wanted to beat Gryffindor so badly, especially to get back at all the whispered comments of how evil he was.

After half an hour of lying there with his insides churning, Hermione piped up. < Could you please worry less loudly? Some of us are trying to sleep. >

Just for that, he sent her constant zaps over the bond while he got dressed until she finally relented and joined him for an early breakfast.

< I could have been an only child, > she said, mechanically shoving oatmeal into her mouth.

< You mispronounced ‘good luck, oh brother mine’, > he shot back.

As eleven o’clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. The team pulled on their silver and green robes then sat down to listen to Flint’s pre-match pep talk.

“We have better people and better brooms. Win or I’ll kill you,” he said.

< Inspiring stuff, > Hermione said, listening in.

“Derrick, Bole. I want you to focus on their Chasers. Break up their formations. Pucey, Malfoy – like we practiced. Bletchley – remember which Chaser favours which hoop, and you should be able to block easily. And Potter, catch the damn snitch.”

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them. There was loud cheering and whooping from the Slytherin stand but equally loud boos and hisses coming from the other Houses. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary, trying to crush the other’s hand.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch, “three … two … one …”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upwards, the fourteen players rose towards the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

“All right there, Scarhead?” yelled the Gryffindor seeker, shooting up next to him.

“Who are you?” Harry asked. The other boy looked furious that Harry didn’t know his name.

“McLaggen, Cormac McLaggen,” spat the other boy.

“Oh, cool. Well, nice to meet you,” Harry said amicably.

Hermione groaned. < You started strong with ‘who are you’, which truly is hilariously devastating. He looked so pissed that you had no idea who he was. But like, finish strong. Nice to meet you? You’re not having fucking afternoon tea. >

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting towards him. He avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

“Close one, Potter!” said Bole, streaking past him with his club in hand. He gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Angelina Johnson, but the Bludger changed direction in mid-air and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and Bole managed to hit it hard towards McLaggen. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry’s head.

He put on a burst of speed and zoomed towards the other end of the pitch. He could hear the Bludger whistling along behind him. < What the hell is going on? > he shouted. < They’re not supposed to concentrate on one player like this. >

< Hagrid says you’ve got a Rogue Bludger, > came back Hermione’s worried voice. < It’s been tampered with. >

< Fuck, > Harry spat. It had started to rain; he felt heavy drops fall onto his face, splattering his robes. He didn’t have a clue what was going on in the rest of the game until he heard Lee Jordan – a Gryffindor friend of the Weasley twins – who was commentating say “Slytherin lead, sixty points to twenty.” He had no change to look for the snitch and Bole and Derrick were having to constantly be near him to keep the Bludger away.

He signalled to Flint, who thankfully got the message, that he needed a time out. Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out and Harry dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

“What the fuck is going on?” spat Flint as they huddled together. “Why are you two hovering around Potter? We’re up but we won’t continue to be if we don’t follow the game plan.”

“Someone’s tampered with the Bludger – it won’t leave Potter alone! It hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. Those cheating Gryffs must have done something to it,” Bole said. Flint had a murderous look on his face.

“We can’t do anything,” Harry said. “If we stop now, we have to forfeit the match. I’m not losing to Gryffindor just because of a fucking Bludger.”

Madam Hooch joined them. “Ready to resume play?” she asked.

Flint paused, looking at Harry who did his best to project a look of determination. He nodded at Hooch. “Get that snitch, Potter. Bole, Derrick – do what you can but don’t get in his way.”

The rain was falling more heavily now. On Madam Hooch’s whistle, Harry kicked hard into the air and heard the tell-tale whoosh of the Bludger behind him. Higher and higher Harry climbed. He looped and swooped, spiralled, zig-zagged and rolled, using the weight of the Bludger against it.

< I need you, Mi, > he said, gritting his teeth, swerving again to avoid the Bludger.

< I know, Me Me. I’m looking for it too, I just haven’t spotted it yet. The moment I spot it, I’ll tell you, > she replied.

He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain, searching for the elusive gold. A whistling in Harry’s ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again.

Finally, Hermione’s voice came over the bond. < It’s there, Me, > she said, shoving her view into his head. Harry quickly scanned the stadium and breathed a sigh of relief that the other Seeker was nowhere near it.

Whipping his broom around, he shot down towards the snitch, arm out reaching for it. The rain was pelting his face, and he ducked down again as the whistling noise of the Bludger came close. It shot over his head towards the snitch before abruptly rebounding back towards him. Before he could react – WHAM! – it smashed into his outstretched hand and arm, and Harry felt his arm break.

He blinked through a haze of rain and pain, his arm hanging uselessly at his side. Hermione shoved herself further into his head, taking on the pain, allowing his head to clear.

He accelerated again, trusting his sister, and took his remaining hand off the broom and held it out towards the shimmering gold. He felt his fingers close on the cold Snitch and breathed a sigh of relief.

He vaguely heard Hermione screaming in his head and shook himself, bringing his broom up just enough to avoid splattering himself on the ground, before allowing himself to limply flop onto the muddy ground.

< We won, > he said.

-/-

“Get OUT of my way!” Hermione shouted, mercilessly shoving people in her rush to get down from the stands and out onto the pitch. “MOVE!” she shouted again, quietly pleased as people scattered. She felt Harry drift out of consciousness briefly, the bond dimming slowly, and shoved a few more people out of her way.

She breathed a sigh of relief as he came around.

Harry found himself lying in the mud with someone leaning over him. He saw a glitter of teeth. < Oh no, > he moaned.

< What? What is it? > Hermione asked, unable to see over the tall people currently in her way.

< It’s Lockhart, > he said, hearing a few high pitched yelps as Hermione continued her warpath.

“Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm,” Lockhart said, grinning down at him.

“No!” Harry said quickly. “I’ll keep it like this, thanks … “ He tried to sit up but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby. “My sister will break your camera, Colin,” he said loudly.

“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. “It’s a simple charm. I’ve used it countless times.”

“Why can’t I just go to the hospital wing?” said Harry through clenched teeth. < Where are you, Mi? Lockhart’s probably going to cut my arm off. >

< Every annoying twat in this school has made it their fucking goal in life to be in my way, > came her harried voice.

“He really should, Professor,” said a muddy Flint, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. “Great capture, Potter, really spectacular!”

“Stand back,” said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

“No!” yelled Hermione, bursting forwards, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and second later had directed it straight at Harry’s arm.

A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry’s shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. He didn’t dare look at what was happening, turning his head away. His arm didn’t hurt anymore – but nor did it feel remotely like an arm. Hermione stared in horror.

“Ah,” said Lockhart. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind.”

“Broken?” Hermione screeched. “You removed his bones, you brainless buffoon!”


	14. Hospital Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's lovely comments :) I really appreciate it.  
> The start of Hermione's revenge against Lockhart. Don't worry, there's more to come. She's only getting started in her campaign against Lockhart. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

Madam Pomfrey wasn’t at all pleased, and Hermione was so furious that Harry feared for Hogwarts as a whole.

“You should have come straight to me!” Madam Pomfrey raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm. “I can mend bones in a second – but growing them back –“

“You will be able to, won’t you?” Harry asked desperately, over Hermione’s increasingly loud rant through the bond.

“I’ll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful,” she said grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pyjamas. “You’ll have to stay the night.”

She drew the curtain as Hermione helped him into his pyjamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve. As he swung himself onto the bed, his arm flapped pointlessly. < I’m gonna ruin Lockhart’s fucking life, > seethed Hermione. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her so pissed off before.

< No murder until I get all my bones back please, > he said.

Madam Pomfrey re-appeared around the curtain. She was holding a large bottle of something labelled ‘Skele-Gro’. “You’re in for a rough night,” she said, pouring out a beakerful and handing it to him. “Regrowing bones is a nasty business.”

So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned his mouth and throat as it went down, making him cough and splutter. Still tutting about dangerous sports and inept teachers, Madam Pomfrey retreated, leaving Hermione to help Harry gulp down some water.

< At least we won, > he said, smiling up at his sister, before paling at the look of ire on her face.

< I’m going to find out who fixed that Bludger and I’m going to shred Lockhart to pieces, > Hermione said darkly, the bond roiling and sparking.

Before Harry could reply, the door of the hospital wing burst open and the rest of the Slytherin team piled in, still filthy and soaking wet.

“Unbelievable flying, Potter!” said Flint. “Wood is probably still sobbing in the showers about it.”

They had brought cakes, sweets, and bottles of pumpkin juice. They gathered around Harry’s bed and were just getting started on what promised to at least be a good feed, if not a good party, when Madam Pomfrey came storming over, shouting, “This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Get OUT!”

< She’s nearly as terrifying as you, Mi, > Harry said, as the rest of his team scattered.

< You would not believe the amount of people who thought it’d be a good idea to get in my way today, > she replied.

< I’ve got no doubt they’re still cowering somewhere scared out of their wits, > Harry said, scoffing down a few sweets before Pomfrey came back and took them.

< That implies they had wits to begin with which I do not agree with, > she snarked back. < Now. To business. I’ve got the Cloak. >

< And I've got no bones, Mi, so I can’t help, > he said, flopping his useless arm around. < Can it wait? I wanna ruin his life too. >

< What if he’d misaimed? He could have taken away your ribs or your spine. You could have died, Me, all because he’s a fucking moron, > she spat. < You said no, and he cast the spell anyway. So, I am going to ruin his fucking life. But don’t worry. I’m going to do it slowly; I’m going to dismantle everything he cares about piece by fucking piece. I’ll start small tonight - his precious pictures and clothes and hair, the narcissistic fool. But that’s just simple stuff. I won’t rest until I’ve ruined his reputation, until I’ve proven without a doubt that he’s lying about his adventures. I don’t care how long it takes. >

Harry gazed up at her in wonderment and gave her a mean smile. < He fucked with the wrong family. I’d do the same if it was you lying here, Mi Mi. Go ahead, I can be your alibi. >

-/-

Hermione crept out a few hours later when Madam Pomfrey was asleep. Harry had moved further into her mind, escaping the stabbing pains in his limp arm. The corridors were dark and empty, the candles burnt low.

She tensed as she reached out towards Lockhart’s office door, but the door swung open easily. < He doesn’t even have a locking charm? > she said. < That’s asking to be robbed. >

< Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, > Harry said.

She snuck further into the room, leaving the door only a fraction ajar, and got to work, vanishing all of the paintings and photos that pictured Lockhart’s smug face. By the time she was finished, there was only the furniture and some quills left. She turned to the bare wall and pulled Salamander blood out of her bag.

< What the hell are you doing? > Harry asked.

< Leaving a message, > she replied, slowly painting out words with the blood. 

She stood back to take in her work. In large letters, the blood dark in the low light, read YOU WERE TOLD TO BEWARE. She grinned before spinning around and making her way up the stairs towards the antechamber. From her previous reconnoitre, she knew his hideous wardrobe filled this room. She worked quickly, vanishing every single piece of clothing in there. After that, she crept towards what could only be the fool’s bedroom.

< Wait, > Harry said.

< What? > she snapped, pausing just before the door.

< Why would the Heir make him bald? It’s too much. We can get rid of his hair later. One of us should do it under the Cloak while he’s in full view of people. Way more humiliating for him, > Harry said.

< You’re right, that is better, > she conceded. < You’re still alone, right? >

< Yeah, no-one else here missing any bones, > Harry replied. < Why? >

< Because of this, > Hermione said, back in the entrance to Lockhart’s office. _“Bombarda!”_ she whispered, before turning on her heel and sprinting all the way back to the Hospital Wing.

< Was that wholly necessary? > Harry asked.

< Makes it messy, obscures the picture, doesn’t make it obvious at first that all his stuff is gone, > she replied. _“Lumos. Nox. Lumos. Nox_ ,” she whispered in quick succession, hiding her wand under the bed. Then she cast several _Aguamenti’s_ for good measure. < They can’t check my wand for the spell, > she informed a confused looking Harry. < Now budge over. I’d like to get some sleep tonight. >

-/-

Harry felt like he’d only just closed his eyes when he found himself jerked out of sleep again. His arm was throbbing and felt full of large splinters. For a second he thought it was that which had woken him before realising someone was sponging his forehead in the dark.

< What the hell are you doing? > he asked groggily, cracking open an eye, before realising Hermione was fast asleep next to him.

He jerked forward to see Dobby the house-elf crouching at the end of the bed, a single tear running down his long, pointed nose. < Mi, wake up. Wake up, Mi. I’m having a fever dream, > he shouted down the bond, giving her a shake.

She gave a start and jerked awake, looking around wildly. < What? What is it? What’s wro- > She spotted Dobby.

“Dobby?” she asked incredulously. < This is a shit dream, Me. >

"Harry and Hermione came back to school,” the elf whispered miserably. “Dobby warned and warned them. Why didn’t they heed Dobby?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“Dobby is here to warn you. Harry and Hermione must go home where they are safe. Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make-“

He was cut off as Hermione grabbed him by the neck of his filthy pillowcase and dragged him forward. “Your Bludger?” she seethed. “What do you mean, your Bludger?”

“You made that Bludger try and kill me?” Harry asked, furious. "You better clear off before my bones grow back otherwise I'll honestly strangle you." 

“Not kill you, sir, never kill you,” said Dobby, shocked. “Dobby wants to save your lives! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here! Dobby only wanted you hurt enough to be sent home!”

“Oh, is that all?” said Harry angrily as Hermione bared her teeth. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?”

“Ah, if only you knew!” Dobby groaned, more tears and snot dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. Hermione dropped her hand in disgust. “If you knew what you mean to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He Who Must Not Be Named was at the height of his powers! We house-elfs were treated like vermin! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that but mostly life has improved for my kind since you two triumphed over He Who Must Not Be Named. You survived and the Dark Lord’s power was broken and it was a new dawn and the Potter twins shone like a beacon of hope for those who thought the Dark days would never end … and now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps already happening, and Dobby cannot let you stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more –“

Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Harry’s water jug from his bedside and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. Harry and Hermione remained frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes. A few seconds later, Dobby crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering “Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby …”

“You know who the Heir is, don’t you?” Hermione whispered; her fury temporarily forgotten. “You know who’s opened the Chamber.”

Harry seized the elf’s bony wrist. “Who is it, Dobby? Who’s opened it? Who opened it last time?”

“Ask no more, ask not poor Dobby,” stammered the elf, his eyes huge in the dark. “Dark deeds are planned in this place. You must not be here when they happen. You must not meddle in this.”

“We’re not leaving,” Hermione said in a dark voice, “so tell us who the Heir is so we can stop them.”

“You would risk your lives,” moaned Dobby. “So noble and valiant, but you must save –“

Dobby suddenly froze, his bat ears quivering. Harry and Hermione looked at each other as they heard it too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

“Dobby must go,” breathed the elf. There was a loud crack and Harry’s fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. He swore before slumping back into bed, pulling the blanket over Hermione, as the footsteps drew nearer.

< That fucking elf, > he said. < Next time, I really will let Typhon eat him. >

Next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long woolly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.

“Get Madam Pomfrey,” whispered Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry’s bed. They lay quite still, pretending to be asleep. They heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, who was pulling a cardigan on over her nightdress. There was a sharp intake of breath.

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore, bending over the statue on the bed.

“Another message and another attack. Someone has trashed Gilderoy’s rooms and left a similar message as before. And now an attack,” Dumbledore said. “Minerva found him on the stairs.”

< Please be Lockhart, please be Lockhart, > Hermione chanted.

“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” said Professor McGonagall. “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in confusion. Slowly and carefully, he raised himself a few inches so he could look at the statue on the bed. A ray of moonlight lay across its staring face.

It was Colin Creevey. His eyes were wide, and his hands were stuck up in front of him, holding his camera.

< Fuck, > Harry whispered.

< Why would he come and visit you? It’s the middle of the fucking night, > Hermione murmured.

< It’s that bullshit hero worship, > he replied, his stomach feeling hollow. < He’d probably still like you too if you hadn’t called him Colin Creepy. >

< Maybe if you’d called him Colin Creepy then he wouldn’t be a statue in a hospital bed, > she shot back. < People think they know us, think we owe them something. It’s not right. >

< I know, Mi Mi, but he’s just a dumb kid, > Harry said sadly.

“Petrified?” came Madam Pomfrey’s hushed voice.

“Yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “But I shudder to think … If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs to Gilderoy’s, who knows what might have …”

The three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and prised the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.

“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” said Professor McGonagall eagerly. Dumbledore slowly prised open the back of the camera.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Madam Pomfrey.

A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry and Hermione, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt plastic.

“Melted,” said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly, “all melted…”

“What does this mean, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

“It means,” said Dumbledore sadly, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

“But Albus … surely … who?”

“The question is not who,” Dumbledore said, his eyes on Colin. “The question is how …”

< What the hell does that mean? > Hermione wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you asked if Hermione would try to sue Lockhart.  
> I know they looked up quite a lot of the law last year when they were trying to find their parents' wills, but they still wouldn't think to use the law for a few reasons. They're pretty mistrustful of adults and the legal system, having been failed by them several times. They're also used to getting their own brand of vengeance and revenge, and getting payback against someone who's hurt them.  
> Anyway, Lockhart better watch out.


	15. Duelling Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe I'm over 50k words on this series already, that's actually so wild to me.  
> I'm having such a fun time writing this story, so I hope y'all are enjoying reading it. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, I love all your comments so much :) :)

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumour and suspicion. None of this was helped by Lockhart who, to Hermione’s utter fury, had turned his office being destroyed into an extravagant tale of how he’d been attacked and had been forced to fight for his life, unable to see his attacker due to the darkness. Hermione calmed herself by remembering that he had disappeared for at least a few days after the destruction. He’d re-appeared a few days later and had clearly left in order to replenish his ludicrous wardrobe.

People were moving around the castle in tight-knit groups now as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone. Whispers and glares followed the twins wherever they went. A few people had heard Harry threaten breaking Colin’s camera and it was quickly spread that the attack had been a retaliation against the Gryffindor by the twins. Slytherin House remained supportive and Harry and Hermione found themselves inundated from ongoing pats on the back and nods of approval whenever they passed an older Slytherin in the hall.

There was a stampede when the Heads of House came around to collect the names of those going home for the Christmas Holidays. No-one wanted to remain at Hogwarts, especially as the rumour had spread that Harry and Hermione would be remaining behind.

-/-

Around a week later, Harry and Hermione were walking across the Entrance Hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Draco and Daphne beckoned them over, looking vaguely excited.  
“They’re starting a Duelling Club,” Draco said. “First meeting tonight. It’s about time they restarted the Duelling Club, every other school of repute has one.”

< How to fight people? > Hermione said. < Sign me the hell up. >

Harry smiled and nodded at Draco. “We’ll definitely be there.”

They headed back to the Great Hall that evening, curious as to how it would all go. The long dining tables had vanished, and a golden stage had appeared in the middle, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited. 

< I wonder who’ll be teaching us? > mused Hermione, as she and the rest of the second year Slytherins moved towards the front, the crowd parting to avoid the notorious Potter twins. < I heard Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it’ll be him. >

“You two are fantastic crowd control,” Pansy said, sneering at some Hufflepuffs who’d cringed away from Harry and Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes. < As long as it’s not - > He groaned out loud as Gilderoy Lockhart walked out on the stage, garbed in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black. < Spoke way too soon. >

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!” He gave a hearty chuckle. “Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.”

< Bonfire at the end of the year to burn his published works? > Harry snarked.

“Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing another wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry – you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

< Gods, I hope Snape permanently maims him, > Hermione muttered.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he’d have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He’d last seen that smile before being given detention with Lockhart. That smile promised pain.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

< More’s the pity, > Harry said.

“One – two – three –“

Both of them swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried _“Expelliarmus!”_ There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: he flew backwards off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Hermione and the rest of the second year Slytherins loudly cheered.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I’ve lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see …”

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me …”

< He should have been a politician, he truly can spin anything, > Hermione said in disgust.

Snape and Lockhart moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with a Hufflepuff called Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape made a beeline for the twins.

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he said, looking down at his second years. “Malfoy with Finnegan. Potter with Weasley. Miss Potter, you can pair with Miss Brown. Parkinson with Patil …” He continued matching up people, in what seemed a concerted effort to cause chaos.

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform, “and bow!”

Harry barely inclined his head at Weasley who gave him a foul look back. Hermione offered her partner, Lavender Brown, a ditzy blonde Gryffindor girl, a smile that showed all her teeth.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent – only to disarm them – we don’t want any accidents. One … two … three …”

On three, Harry quickly shouted “Expelliarmus!” and watched with great enjoyment as Weasley and his wand got thrown in different directions. Hermione had taken a different route, simply allowing her anger to saturate the bond, and then poured it through her wand on three, which promptly blasted Lavender back several metres. Hermione and Harry smirked at each other.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, who didn’t listen to him. “Stop! Stop!” Lockhart screamed, but Snape took charge.

“Finite Incantatem!” he shouted. A haze of greenish smoke slowly cleared the hall. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting. Malfoy had managed to disarm Finnegan but not before the Gryffindor had managed to somehow set Malfoy’s outer robes on fire. Meanwhile, Parvati Patil and Pansy were still screeching as they wrestled on the floor, attempting to rip the others hair out at the roots. Daphne remained immaculate, having easily polished off the Gryffindor Fay Dunbar.

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you get, Macmillan … careful there, Miss Fawcett … pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot …”

“Maybe you should teach them to block unfriendly spells,” Snape offered, purveying the chaos, a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth.

“An excellent idea, Professor Snape! Let’s have a volunteer pair to duel and we’ll show you how to block unfriendly spells. Potter and …” he trailed off surveying the crowds, before someone raised their hand. “Ah yes, a good match. Mr Potter and Mr Goldstein come up here. Come on people, give them a hand!”

< Ah, fuck, > Harry said.

< It’ll be fine, Me. You topped the Defence class last year. Just blast him like you did Weasley, > Hermione replied, glaring at the Ravenclaw boy.

Harry and Anthony climbed up onto the duelling stage, giving each other heated glares.

“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart, “when Anthony points his wand at you, you do this.” He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped it. Harry fought to keep a blank face as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying “Whoops – my wand is a little over-excited.”

Snape looked disinterestedly at Goldstein and left the stage without saying anything.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder, saying “Just do what I did, Harry!” before exiting the stage as well.

< He dropped his wand! > Harry exclaimed. < What? >

Anthony gave Harry a mean smile as they took their duelling positions.

“Three – two – one – go!” Lockhart shouted.

Harry raised his wand quickly and shouted, _“Expelliarmus!”_

At the same time, Goldstein shouted out _“Serpensortia!”_

Harry watched pleased as his spell hit dead on target and Anthony was blasted backwards but then took a step backwards as a long black snake shot out of the other boy’s wand as he fell. The snake fell heavily onto the floor between them and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away.

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight towards Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry swore under his breath, knowing it was a trap, but unable to help himself. _“Leave the boy alone,”_ he said. _“I am a Speaker, come to me, baby. I’ll look after you.”_

The snake turned back towards him. _“Where am I, Speaker? Who took me from my nest?”_ it said angrily.

Harry looked up at Justin, quietly hoping for at least a look of relief, but there was only anger and fear on his face.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Justin shouted, before turning and storming out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Harry looked sadly at it. Snape gave him a calculating look, something unreadable in his eyes, and Harry didn’t like it. He was dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the halls.

< Get off the stage, Me Me. We need to leave, > Hermione said. < Come on, we don’t want to be here. > She moved forward, waving him off the stage. People leapt back as though they were frightened of catching something, eyeing her suspiciously.

She waited until they were far enough away before throwing the Cloak over them. < Let’s just go to the trunk. I don’t want to deal with people right now. >

< I’m sorry, Mi Mi. I couldn’t just let that poor snake hurt someone, > Harry said miserably.

< I know, Me. I would have done the same, even when they turn out to be an ungrateful twat about it, > she said, unable to be too angry at her brother. < It doesn’t matter now anyway; the whole school knows. >

< It was a fucking trap anyway, > he cursed, < so who told Goldstein? >

-/-

Snape paced the length of the headmaster’s office as McGonagall took a seat.

“Do you expect me to believe it just a coincidence that the Potter twins can speak Parseltongue, just as the Dark Lord can?” Snape said.

“When it comes to the Potter twins, I very much doubt that anything is coincidence,” Albus said. Snape raised an eyebrow at the Headmaster. “But I don’t know exactly why they have this particular talent.”

“And I suppose it was just a coincidence that Goldstein cast that particular spell?” McGonagall exclaimed.

“I suspect a Slytherin let it slip,” Snape muttered. “My House believe that the Potter twins are the Heirs of Slytherin and are convinced that they are the ones who have opened the Chamber. No doubt it would suit some of their agendas to have the rest of the school increasingly fearful of the twins.”

“Do we know for certain that they are not the Heirs who have opened the Chamber?” McGonagall asked, looking alarmed.

Snape and Dumbledore looked at each at that.

“What?” McGonagall said flatly.

“We have no way of knowing for certain. I think it is highly unlikely for it to be them, given the circumstances surrounding the last time the Chamber was opened,” Dumbledore said.

“What do you mean you have no way of knowing?” McGonagall asked.

“We cannot read their minds,” Snape said bluntly. “I suspect no-one will be able to.”

McGonagall took a deep breath in. “Moving past why you know what, why is no-one able to?”

“Neither I nor Albus have any idea,” Snape replied.

“So you’re telling me that the Potter twins, who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as babies, can speak a language last known to be spoken by said You-Know-Who, and have minds that are unable to be read by a Master Legilimens, and we have no idea how any of this has come about?” McGonagall said. “What on earth are we supposed to do? How do we protect the school?”

“We must continue to keep a close eye and hope that things become clearer,” Dumbledore said calmly.

McGonagall’s loud snort told him exactly what she thought of that idea.

-/-

They were in the library the following afternoon, their usual class cancelled by a massive blizzard. Their normal study was being supplemented with trawls through books on History and various magical monsters. Turned out there was a positively alarming number of monsters in the world.

They were trawling through one section of the library when Harry overheard his name. Peeking around one of the shelves, he saw a group of Hufflepuffs sitting together, their heads close together, looking like they were having an absorbing conversation. He paused to listen, nudging Hermione through the bond.

“So anyway,” a stout boy was saying, “I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if the Potters have marked him down as their next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while.”

“You definitely think it’s the Potter twins, then, Ernie?” asked a girl with blonde pigtails anxiously. Harry vaguely remembered that she got Sorted first last year.

“Hannah,” the stout boy – apparently called Ernie – said solemnly, “we know for certain that Harry is a Parselmouth, so I bet his sister is too. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.” There was some heavy murmuring at this, and Ernie went on, “Remember what was written on the wall? Where they were literally caught at the scene of the crime? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know, Creevey’s been attacked.”

“They seem so quiet and smart though,” Hannah said uncertainly, “and, well, they’re the ones who made You-Know-Who disappear. They can’t be all bad, can they?”

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harry edged nearer so that he could catch Ernie’s words.

“No-one knows how they survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, they were only babies when it happened. They should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark Wizard could have survived a curse like that.” He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, “That’s probably why You Know Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers they’ve been hiding?”

Harry had heard enough and stalked back to Hermione, furious. < Fuck this. Now we were apparently evil Dark Lords as babies. > He slammed a book down on the table. < People are fucking morons. >

< Come on, Me. Let’s get out of here, > Hermione said, taking one look at her brother’s furious expression and knowing nothing productive would get done now. < Let’s go play with Kid and Ty. >

Harry blindly followed her out of the library, in such a fury that he missed her warning and ran straight into something very large and solid, which knocked him backwards onto the floor.

< Don’t listen to me then, > Hermione said, turning to the large and solid thing and smiling. “Hello Hagrid, how are you?”

Hagrid’s face was entirely hidden by a woolly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

“All righ’, Harry, Hermione?” he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. “Why aren’t yeh in class?”

“Cancelled,” Harry replied, getting up. “What’re you doing?”

Hagrid help up the limp rooster. “Second one killed this term,” he explained. “It’s either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear, an’ I need the headmaster’s permission ter put a charm round the hen-coop. I better get goin’ but come visit in the holidays.”

Hermione waved goodbye, turning to keep heading back to the Common Room. They turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draught which was blowing through a loose windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when Harry tripped head-long over something lying on the floor.

< I should have stayed in bed today, > he grumbled, as Hermione bent to help him up. She promptly dropped him, muffling a shriek. Harry jerked around, squinting through the dark, and felt as though his stomach had dropped right out of his body.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry thought he’d ever seen.

It was a ghost – the Gryffindor ghost, he thought, Nearly Headless Nick – no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s.

Harry jumped to his feet, on the verge of panic, as he and Hermione looked wildly up and down the deserted corridor and saw a line of spiders scuttling as fast as they could away from the bodies.

Hermione grabbed his hand. < We can’t be found here. We have to leave, > she said anxiously, dragging him past Justin’s stiff body.

They’d gotten only a few metres away when a door flew open next to them with a bang. Peeves the poltergeist came shooting out.

< Oh no, > Harry moaned.

“Why, it’s the rotter wee Potters,” cackled Peeves. “What’s the Potters up to? Why lurk in a –“

Peeves stopped, halfway through a mid-air somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs, and, before Harry or Hermione could do anything, screamed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”

Crash – crash – crash: door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed.

Harry and Hermione tried to sneak away but found themselves pinned against the wall by the crush as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class, one of whom still had black and white striped hair. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. They tried to sneak off again only for Ernie the Hufflepuff to hurtle onto the scene.

“Caught in the act!” Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at the backs of the twins.

“That will do, Macmillan!” said Professor McGonagall sharply.

Peeves was bobbing overhead, now grinning wickedly, surveying the scene. Peeves always loved chaos. As the teachers bent over Justin and Nick, examining them, Peeves broke into song:

“Oh Potters, you rotters, oh what have you done, you’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun –“

“That’s enough Peeves,” barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backwards.

Justin was carried up to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra. Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air. “Use this to take Nearly Headless Nick to the infirmary as well, Ernie,” she said firmly. This Ernie did, fanning Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left Harry and Hermione and Professor McGonagall alone together.

“This way,” she said, leading them through the corridor.

< We are so fucked, > Hermione said, recognising the route she was taking them. < I wonder if they’ll actually expel us. >

< We didn’t do anything, > Harry said.

< Well tell that to the Headmaster cause that’s where we’re going, > she said grimly.


	16. Making Us Watch Your Pet Die As An Intimidation Tactic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An odd sort of interrogation.  
> Dumbledore is such a chess player, focussed on the end result, happy to sacrifice some things in order to gain other stuff. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics
> 
> :)

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told them to wait, and left them there, alone. They wandered in, taking in all the curious instruments and portraits, before sitting in the chairs in front of the desk.

< Classic intimidation tactics, > Hermione muttered. < Make us wait … the longer we wait, the more we panic. And so - >

A strange, gagging noise interrupted her and they whirled around. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird which resembled a half-plucked turkey. They stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Hermione thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as they watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

< Oh, just what we need, for Dumbledore’s pet bird to die in fr - > Harry stopped in shock.

The bird had burst into flames.

Hermione and Harry leapt to their feet, looking around the room for something that might help. The bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre.

“Professor,” Harry gasped, “your bird – we couldn’t do anything – it just caught fire – “

To their astonishment, Dumbledore smiled. “About time too,” he said. “He’s been looking dreadful for days; I’ve been telling him to get a move on.” He paused to chuckle at their stunned expressions. “Fawkes is a phoenix. They burst into flames when it’s time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him …”

They looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, new-born bird poke its head out of the ashes. < Well, making us watch your pet die is a new low in intimidation tactics. Can honestly say was not expecting that, > Hermione said.

“It’s a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day,” said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. “You saw him before but even then, he was approaching his Burning. He’s really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets.”

Harry and Hermione re-took their seats, slowly recovering from the shock of seeing a bird burst into flames.

Before Dumbledore could speak, the door of the office blew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

“It wasn’ them, Professor Dumbledore!” Hagrid said urgently. “I was talking ter them seconds before that kid was found, they never had time, sir …”

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

“… It can’t’ve bin them, I’ll swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to…”

“Hagrid, I – “

“… Yeh’ve got the wrong kids, sir, I know they never – “

“Hagrid!” Dumbledore said loudly. “I do not think that they attacked those people.”

“Oh,” said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. “Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.” He stomped out looking embarrassed.

“You don’t think it was us?” Harry asked, as Hermione plucked rooster feathers out of her hair.

“No, I do not,” Dumbledore said, brushing feathers off his desk, though his face was sombre again. “But I still want to talk to you both.”

They sat there mutely, the bond humming nervously, while Dumbledore considered them, the tips of his long fingers together.

“I’ve recently been made aware that you two possess the ability to speak Parseltongue,” he began.

< The entire school has ‘recently been made aware’, > Hermione snorted.

“There is no easy way to say this. I am concerned about this ability,” he said. “Not for the reasons you might think. It is not, despite what the public think, an inherently ‘evil’ trait. It is a magical ability, nothing else. But it is generally considered to be a trait that is inherited, and as far as I know, neither of your parents possessed the ability.”

“What are you saying?” Hermione said slowly, the back of her neck prickling.

“This is not widely known, and I must insist you not tell anyone, but Voldemort could speak Parseltongue. I am concerned that some of his powers may have passed into you on the night he was vanquished.”

Harry and Hermione stared at him dumbly, the room painfully silent.

< I’ve got nothing, > Harry said. < I have no idea how to respond to that. >

< What if it’s true? > Hermione said worriedly. < He may be an old goat, but he is still considered the greatest wizard of his age. >

“What would it mean that some of his powers passed into us?” Harry asked numbly.

“I don’t know,” Dumbledore answered honestly. “But there is something I would like to do that may help me assess the situation further.”

“What?” Hermione said suspiciously.

“I would like your permission to read your mind while you speak Parseltongue,” he said.

“You can read minds?” Harry panicked.

“It’s another magical talent, although it is one that can be learnt. It is known as Legilimency. Voldemort was a natural Legilimens; he could tell instantly if someone was lying to him,” Dumbledore replied.

“So, you’re reading our minds right now?” Harry asked, honestly ready to sprint out of the room.

“No, my boy. It’s a more involved process than that. One can do a brief surface read through eye contact if one is highly trained but to actually read the mind involves more than that.”

Hermione eyed him; her face guarded. < I bet he is highly trained, and I bet he has done a surface read on us before, > she said angrily. < I don’t like this. How do we protect ourselves from people who want to read our minds? I hadn’t even considered this as a problem. > The bond spiralled as she did, throwing off sparks.

< Deep breath, Mi. One problem at a time, > Harry said urgently. < What do we do? We have a lot of secrets. >

< I don’t know. I don’t see us being able to get out of this. We have no parents, no guardians, no-one to defend us. Just this man who happens to be both Headmaster and Chief of the fucking Wizengamot, > she said.

< What if he reads my mind while I’m in your head? > Harry asked.

< That might be our only option, > she replied unhappily. < I hate this, I hate feeling trapped. >

Harry turned back to the Headmaster who was watching them closely. “We will allow you to read my mind while I speak Parseltongue,” he said. “But we’ll need a snake. It only works when we’re actually talking to a snake.”

Dumbledore nodded, a small smile on his face. “That is easily remedied.” Raising his wand, he cast the same spell that Goldstein had, and a small green snake burst out onto his desk. “If you look at me while you’re talking with the snake, that would be much appreciated.”

< Are you ready, Me? > Hermione asked.

Harry took a deep breath in, looking at the little snake who was sniffing out the desk. He allowed himself to relax before sinking down the bond, shoving himself across into Hermione’s mind. The bond flared brightly, picking up on their heightened nerves. He breathed out and looked up at Dumbledore. _“Hello, little snake. My name is Harry and I’m a Speaker. This is my sister, Hermione.”_

Dumbledore raised his wand and whispered something. Harry tensed before he could help himself.

_“Where are you from, little snake?”_

_“I’m from my nest, Speaker. Where am I now? Have you called me to serve you?”_

_“I just need to talk to you for a few minutes. The old man there wants to see how I do it,”_ he replied.

 _“Well that won’t help him,”_ the snake sniffed. _“Speakers are true-born.”_

< Am I supposed to feel something? > Harry mused. < I thought I’d feel something if someone was in my mind. >

< I don’t know. I would have thought you’d feel something even when you’re in my mind. The bond doesn’t feel any different, > Hermione said.

 _“We are very glad to be true-born then,”_ Harry said. _“We love our snake friends.”_

 _“As you should,”_ the snake preened.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Thank you, my boy. Shall I send the snake back now?”

 _“Thank you for helping me, baby,”_ Harry said. _“We’ll send you back to your nest now.”_ He nodded at the Headmaster who promptly vanished the snake.

“Well?” Hermione said bluntly.

“Have you ever heard of Occlumency?” Dumbledore asked instead.

< It’s never a straight answer with this guy, is it? > Hermione said, clenching her teeth. “No, we’ve never heard of it. What is it?”

“It’s the ability to guard one’s mind from Legilimency,” he replied.

“Sounds useful,” Hermione said flatly. “What about it?”

“I cannot enter your mind,” Dumbledore said. “I am a Master Legilimens. I have never encountered a mind I could not enter before. I don’t know what this means, and that also concerns me. I have encountered many different kinds of magic over the years but nothing like this before. Certainly, there are people who have a natural talent for Occlumency, but even then, it requires a significant amount of work before being able to keep out a Legilimens.”

Hermione felt very tired.

“So we have some weird magic power you’ve never seen before?” Harry asked incredulously. < Is it the bond? Is it really that rare? >

< I don’t know, we don’t know anything about our bond beyond that it’s always been there, > Hermione muttered. < I mean, I’m relieved that no-one can read our minds. Surely that can only be a good thing, especially if Voldemort is a Legilimens. >

“I will do some research, see if there is anything written in the literature, in old texts,” Dumbledore said. “But for now, I am unable to say why you possess the ability to speak Parseltongue, or why your minds are completely inaccessible. I must ask you not to speak of this to anyone.”

< Buddy, we wouldn’t even fucking speak to you if we weren’t trapped in this room, > Hermione said.

“Of course, Headmaster,” Harry said politely.


	17. Christmas Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The puzzle is starting to fall into place. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics
> 
> Let me know what you think :)

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. It was Nearly Headless Nick’s fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost, people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? Hermione was fascinated by it, jotting it down with the rest of her slowly growing research on how to get rid of Binns. Harry and Hermione were very glad that most people were leaving for the holidays. They were tired of people skirting around them in the corridors, as though they were about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing and hissing as they passed.

They were the only ones staying at school from Slytherin House and both of them were looking forward to sleeping in front of the fire and not talking to another person. Satisfied that apparently no-one could breach their minds, Hermione set about creating a list of spells she wanted them to master over the holidays to help protect them during a fight, particularly the Shield charm.

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. There was a huge stack of presents at the foot of the mattress they’d dragged out into the Common Room. They turned to each other in amazement.

< Surely they’re not for us? > Hermione said. < We’re not popular at the best of times, let alone when most of the school thinks we’re murderous loons. >

< Only way to find out is to open them, > Harry said grinning, before vigorously attacking the pile, throwing paper everywhere.

A few minutes later they sat back and surveyed their loot. Hagrid had sent them a large tin of treacle fudge, which Harry decided to soften by the fire before eating. There were new beautiful silver cloaks from the Slytherin second years, complete with a green-eyed bejewelled snake pin. Neville had sent them a book on magical creatures, and they were very glad that they’d finally sent him what he needed to get a new wand from Ollivanders. But to their great surprise, most of the presents – ranging from new books to fancy jewellery – was from a range of Slytherins they had never really interacted with before.

It finally clicked with Hermione as she examined what could only be a real ruby. < This is because they think we’re the fucking Heirs, > she groaned. < All of this is not going to look good when it finally comes out that we’re not. >

< We’ve denied it from the start, > Harry said, flicking through a book on defence.

< Yes, > Hermione said curtly. < But these people will think we’ve taken them for fools when they realise that we’re not the Heirs. >

Harry looked up at her. < But we do think they’re fools, > he said.

< That’s not the fucking point, > she hissed.

< Well, I don’t even know who half these people are, so that makes it pretty hard to return it. Relax, Mi. It’s Christmas and there’s no-one here, > Harry said. < So Merry Christmas Mi Mi. >

< Ugh fine. Merry Christmas Me Me, > she huffed.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe criss-crossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favourite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. The entire Weasley cohort even managed to be vaguely polite through the whole dinner, so Harry held Hermione back from making any pointed comments towards them, instead just heaping more pudding onto her plate, until they were both so stuffed, they could hardly move. And, in what Hermione considered to be the best Christmas present of all, Lockhart wasn’t there; off to some fancy celebrity event instead.

They crawled into bed that night, feeling warm and safe, the stress of the last few months temporarily melting away.

-/-

The feeling didn’t last unfortunately. The end of the holidays brought back the panic and paranoia of the student population who continued to flinch away from the twins as they tried to make their way to class and back. This did mean they got very good at knowing which routes had the least amount of people, regardless of how circuitous they might be.

They were ducking through one of their less-trodden trails one day when an angry outburst from the floor above reached their ears.

< That’s Filch, > Harry muttered as they turned up the stairs, pausing for a moment to keep listening, their heads inclined toward Filch’s voice, which sounded quite hysterical.

“… even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw! I’m going to Dumbledore …” His footsteps receded and they heard a distant door slam.

They poked their heads around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual look-out post: they were once again on the spot where Mrs Norris had been attacked. They saw at a glance what Filch had been shouting about. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. They could hear Myrtle’s wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

< Myrtle and her flooding bathroom are one of our clues, > Harry said. < Let’s go and see what’s happening. > Holding their robes over their ankles, they tip-toed through the great wash of water to the door bearing its Out of Order sign and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom, because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

“Hello Myrtle,” Harry said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Who’s that?” glugged Myrtle miserably. “Come to throw something else at me?”

Harry waded across to her favourite cubicle and said, “Why would I throw something at you?”

“Don’t ask me,” Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. “Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me …”

“You’re a ghost,” Hermione said. “It can’t hurt you, it just goes right through you.”

< Oh, very empathetic, Mi, > Harry snarked.

Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked at that. “Let’s all throw books at Myrtle, because she can’t feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha ha ha! What a lovely game, I don’t think!”

< How about you check your hair or something and leave the talking to me, > Harry said, turning back to Myrtle with what he hoped was a kind expression. “Well, that’s not right. Who threw it at you, anyway?”

“I don’t know … I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head,” said Myrtle, glaring at them. “It’s over there, it got washed out.”

Harry looked under the sink, where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. He picked it up off the floor and flicked through it, a thrill going through him. It was a diary and the faded year on the cover told him it was fifty years old. He opened it and on the first page, he could just make out the name ‘T. M. Riddle’ in smudged ink. The rest of the pages were completely blank. He turned it over and saw the printed name of a newsagents in Vauxhall Road, London.

“We’ll take this away, Myrtle. We’re really sorry someone threw it at you,” Harry said, waving gently at the ghost, before slowly backing out of the sopping wet bathroom.

He turned to Hermione with wide eyes. < Touch it, > he said urgently.

< Fuck no, > she said. < It **literally** came out of a toilet. >

< Just touch it! >

She glared at him before reaching out hesitatingly and putting her hand on top of it. With a gasp, she drew back like she’d been burned.

< Right! > Harry exclaimed. < This is definitely a clue. >

< I don’t like it, > Hermione said, before reaching out and holding the diary again. As before, the bond lit up brightly, throwing off red sparks and thrashing between them. She let go again. < We don’t even know what our bond is, let alone why it reacts to certain things. >

< I know, Mi, but this might help us figure out what is happening, > he replied. < Come on, we can hide it in the trunk until we get some free time this weekend to work on it. >

-/-

They were down in the trunk, Kid and Ty resting near them, and Hermione had her knife in hand.

< I really don’t think stabbing the diary is going to be the way to go, > Harry said dryly.

< Well, you never know your luck, > Hermione shot back.

Half an hour later, they were no closer to discovering the truth. _Revelio_ and _Aparecium_ had revealed nothing, but even more curiously, the book resisted having its pages being torn. Hermione was still panting as she lay back, having finally given up.

< What kind of paper can’t you fucking rip? > she huffed, before sitting up again her eyes gleaming. < Let’s burn it, > she exclaimed, grabbing her wand.

< Only to see if it can, > Harry quickly said. < If it does, you have to put the fire out again. And not your fancy Bluebell fire either. >

 _“Incendio!”_ Hermione said, pointing at the diary. It immediately burst into flames but before she could cast the water spell, the flames burnt out and the diary sat there, unblemished. She looked at Harry astonished, before pointing her wand at the book and re-casting the spell, pouring a bit more power into it. The same thing happened.

< Now it’s getting bloody weird, > Harry said, before an idea came to him. _“Ty, can you try biting that book for me?”_

His snake gave him an odd look before slithering over and unhinging his jaw. He moved to bite down but found himself unable to, his sharp fangs not able to pierce the paper. _“Tastes funny,”_ he said, before curling up again.

They sat there staring at the diary for a few minutes, their minds trying to come up with something else, before it dawned on Harry. He turned to Hermione sheepishly. < I don’t suppose we could try writing in it, > he said.

Hermione’s face froze. < We’re stupider than we look, aren’t we? > She scrambled up to grab a quill and some ink.

She held the quill over the page, looking over at Harry who nodded. She flicked the quill and dropped a blot of ink onto the first page of the diary.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Harry and Hermione grinned at each other, excited, and Hermione loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, “Hello! Our names are Harry and Hermione Potter.”

The words shone momentarily on the page and they too sank without a trace. Then, at last, something happened.

Oozing back out of the page, in the very same ink, came words they hadn’t written.

“Hello, Harry and Hermione Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?”

These words, too, faded away, but not before Hermione had started to scribble back.

“Someone tried to flush it down a toilet.”

“Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.”

“What do you mean?” Harry scrawled, stealing the quill from Hermione, blotting the page in his excitement.

“I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things which were covered up. Things which happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“That’s where we are now,” Harry wrote quickly. “We’re at Hogwarts and terrible things have been happening. Do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, holding their breath. Riddle’s reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.

“Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. All good Slytherins know the story. The rest of the school was told it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened, and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.”

Hermione wrenched the quill back. “It’s happening again now. There have been three attacks, and no-one seems to know who’s behind them. Who was it last time?”

“I can show you, if you like,” came Riddle’s reply. “You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you both inside my memory of the night when I caught him.”

Hermione looked at Harry nervously, the bond humming, before carefully writing back, “OK.”

< I’ll kill you if we die inside a diary, > Harry muttered.

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. They saw the little square for June the thirteenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. Their hands trembling slightly, they raised the book to peer closer at the little window, and before they knew what was happening, they were tilting forwards; the window was widening, and they felt their bodies being pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of colour and shadow.

Hermione was screaming through the bond as they felt their feet hit solid ground, the blurred shapes coming suddenly into focus.

They were in Dumbledore’s office – but it wasn’t Dumbledore sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said shakily. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

But the wizard didn’t look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Hermione looked at Harry. < Bit rude, > she muttered, before clearing her throat. “Excuse me!” she all but shouted at the elderly wizard.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Hermione without glancing at her and went to draw the curtains at his window. The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

< We really are dumbasses, > Hermione said. < It’s a memory. We were never here, so we can’t interact with anything or anyone. It’s essentially a weird movie. >

There was a knock on the office door.

“Enter,” said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect badge was glinting on his chest, the green edges of his robes showing him to be a Slytherin. He was much taller than Harry, but he also had jet black hair and bright green eyes.

“Ah, Riddle,” said the Headmaster.

“You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” said Riddle. He looked nervous.

“Sit down,” said Dippet. “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.”

“Oh,” said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

“My dear boy,” said Dippet kindly. “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”

“No,” said Riddle at once. “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that – to that –“

“You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” said Dippet curiously.

“Yes, sir,” said Riddle, reddening slightly.

“You are Muggle-born?”

“Half-blood, sir,” said Riddle. “Muggle father, witch mother.”

“And are both your parents -?”

“My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me: Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

“The thing is, Tom,” he sighed, “special circumstances might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances …”

You mean all these attacks, sir?” said Riddle. Harry and Hermione leant in closer, scared of missing anything.

“Precisely,” said the headmaster. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in the light of the recent tragedy … the death of that poor little girl … You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the – er – source of all this unpleasantness …”

Riddle’s eyes had widened.

“Sir – if the person was caught … If it all stopped …”

“What do you mean?” said Dippet, with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. “Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?”

“No, sir,” Riddle said quickly.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

“You may go, Tom …”

Riddle slid off his chair and stomped out of the room, Harry and Hermione following him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped. Harry could tell he was doing some serious thinking – he was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry and Hermione jogging slightly to keep up with the taller boy. He headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, but to the twins disappointment, not to a hidden passageway or secret tunnel, but the very dungeon in which they now had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn’t been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, they could only just see Riddle, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

The minutes slowly ticked by, Riddle just standing there like a statue, staring through the crack. < Fuck, this is boring, > Hermione exclaimed. < Like this is some Binns level boredom. >

Harry took a seat at one of the desks, leaning back, continuing to watch Riddle. < You’d think he could have started the memory at a more convenient point, don’t you? >

At least another half hour later, just as Hermione was about to completely lose her mind, Riddle startled.

Someone was creeping along the passage. They heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where they were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

“C’mon … gotta get yeh outta here … c’mon now … in the box …”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. There was something familiar about that voice.

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner, the twins quickly following him. They could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

“Evening, Rubeus,” said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”

Riddle stepped closer. “It’s all over,” he said. “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.”

“What d’yeh –“

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and –“

< IT’S HAGRID! > Hermione shouted over the bond, making Harry jump about six feet in the air.

< Oh my fucking god, > he said, his heart still racing. He turned again to look at the large boy who was backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

“Come on, Rubeus,” said Riddle, moving yet closer. “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered …”

“It wasn’ him!” roared Hagrid, his voice echoing in the dark passage. “He wouldn’! He never!”

“Stand aside,” said Riddle, drawing his wand. Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such a force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made both Harry and Hermione let out a long, piercing scream.

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of too many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers – Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but Hagrid leapt on him, seized his wand and threw him back down, yelling “NOOOOOO!”

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete, and Harry and Hermione felt themselves falling upwards. With a crash, they landed spread-eagled on the floor of the trunk, Riddle’s diary lying open on the ground, their worried snakes scurrying towards them.

They looked at each other in shock. < Hagrid? > they echoed over the bond.


	18. Valentine? No, Vilentine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lockhart continues to get his. 
> 
> Mindspeak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)  
> And a shout-out to Skiakitty whose idea is part of this chapter :)

A week had gone by and the twins still hadn’t come to an agreement on what to do with what they’d seen in the diary. They’d always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. Neither would ever be able to forget the giant, three-headed dog he’d christened Fluffy, let alone the dragon he’d wanted to raise in his wooden house.

< It just doesn’t make any sense, > Hermione said, for what felt like the thousandth time.

Harry rolled his neck, ready to rehash the conversation again. < It does make some degree of sense that Hagrid would have a monster as a pet. >

< Maybe it was another monster attacking people, > Hermione said. < Riddle just got the wrong one. >

< We know Hagrid got expelled, and we know the attacks stopped after Hagrid was kicked out, > Harry countered. < We’ve gone over this, and until we’re ready to go and have that conversation with Hagrid … >

< What a fun conversation that will be, > Hermione said.

-/-

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks, and Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey were pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

“The moment their acne clears up, they’ll be ready for re-potting again,” Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. “And after that, it won’t be long until we’re cutting them up and stewing them. You’ll have Mrs Norris back in no time.”

To Hermione’s disgust, Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. They overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while they were lining up for Transfiguration.

“I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, Minerva,” he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. “I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught them. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on them.”

Harry stepped on Hermione’s foot as she opened her mouth.

“You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won’t say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing …” He tapped his nose again and strode off.

< My morale would be boosted if I never saw his face again, > she grumbled.

-/-

Lockhart’s idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February the fourteenth. Harry hadn’t had much sleep because of a late-running Quidditch practice the night before. Hermione had waited as he slowly dragged himself out of bed, so they were late for breakfast.

Hermione took one step into the Great Hall and then promptly back-pedalled. < Fuck no, > she said.

Harry peered around her. The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. He looked up at the teachers’ table and groaned. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he stood, Harry could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall’s cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all – and it doesn’t end here!”

< If the Heir of Slytherin wants to purge people not worthy of studying magic, I’ve got forty-six people who aren’t worthy, > Hermione said. < But this is exactly the type of moment I’ve been waiting for. >

Harry turned to see her devious grin and groaned. < I’m not gonna get breakfast, am I? >

< No, you’re not. Get under the Cloak, > she said, pulling it out of her bag. Harry looked mournfully at the stacks of bacon and toast before following his sister. They crept unseen through the Great Hall while Lockhart kept grandstanding.

He clapped his hands and through the doors to the Entrance Hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your Valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here. I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

Harry nearly ruined the surprise by laughing at the look on Snape’s face. He looked like the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

< Now, the moment the spell lands, we’ve gotta get out of here, and back to the dormitory, so we can pretend like you took forever getting out of bed, > Hermione said, steadying herself.

Aiming her wand, she whispered the incantation. Lockhart, who was busy throwing confetti and waving, didn’t notice immediately.

What he did notice was the sudden hush that fell over the Great Hall, before laughter loudly erupted from every single table. He looked around the Hall and Hermione watched as he suddenly realized that his hair wasn’t swishing around as it usually did. The pale look of horror on his face combined with the laughter getting louder and louder made Hermione almost sing with joy. Cackling over the bond, they quickly crept out of the Hall and back to their Common Room.

Hermione’s mirth lasted the whole day, not even dimmed by the dwarfs that kept barging into their classes to deliver Valentines. Lockhart didn't turn up for a single one of his classes, and Hermione kept randomly breaking out into giggles over the bond. Harry’s mirth was unfortunately dimmed that afternoon. They were heading to Herbology when he heard his name being called.

“Oy, you! ‘Arry Potter!” shouted a particularly grim looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry. Harry tried to escape but there was a whole crowd of first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the way. Hermione did not help in any way, she’d devolved into loud laughter the moment his name had been called. Still trying to escape, the dwarf cut his way through the crowd by kicking people’s shins, and reached him before he’d gone two paces.

“I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ‘Arry Potter in person,” he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

Harry heard the phrase ‘musical message’ and desperately tried to flee. < Would you stop laughing and help me? > he demanded.

“Stay still,” grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry’s bag and pulling him back. With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, parchment and quills spilled onto the floor, ink bottles rolling everywhere.

He pulled his wand out – purely to get his stuff back - which unfortunately caused a panic amongst the first years. “He’s going to attack!” one of them screeched, and before Harry knew what was happening, there was utter pandemonium as the crowd tried to flee.

Hermione punted at least three first years out of the way, reaching for him and helping him to stand up. < Spare me these complete morons, > she huffed, as the crowd whirled around them. < If we actually were attacking them, half of them would be dead by now. >

< That’s the spirit, Mi, > Harry said.

Before long, the crowd had fled and Harry knelt to pick up his stuff in order to put it in Hermione’s bag. Unfortunately, he realised too late that the dwarf hadn’t fled with the crowd and was still waiting to deliver the message. The dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

“Right,” he said, sitting on Harry’s ankles. Hermione had already started laughing again. “Here is your singing Valentine:

‘His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.’”

Hermione’s loud laughter was joined by two other voices. He looked up to see the Weasley twins staring down at him, both laughing, but at least offering him their hands to help him up.

“A fresh pickled toad,” one of them said. “Truly inspired poetry.”

Hermione stood next to him, her arms crossed, her eyebrows raised at the pair.

“We know it was you,” they said.

“’We know it was you’ what?” Hermione replied, her patented dumb expression plastered.

“We know it was you who –“

“Cursed Lockhart this morning and made –“

“His hair vanish like that.”

“Again, we’re impressed and we’d like to –“

“Offer our services in the continued pranking war against –“

“That complete fool.”

Hermione squinted at them suspiciously, looking back and forth between the two, before cracking out a smile. “Well, not admitting anything, but certainly whoever did do that to Lockhart … well, I agree it was impressive. And I’m certain that person would accept any help in the continued war against that peacock.”

“Gred and Forge, at your service again, Miss Potter,” they said, bowing mockingly, and continuing up the corridor, whispering to each other.

< I like them, > Hermione said.

< We have a problem, > Harry said.

< What? I can’t like them? > she replied.

< What? > Harry said, shaking his head. < No, you can like them. No, we have an actual problem. The diary’s gone! >

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout to Skiakitty - I loved your idea about the Weasley's twins helping out with the war against Lockhart, so decided to include it in the story (hope that's ok).  
> Thanks so much for all your comments :) :) I really appreciate it.


	19. Divi-what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the lead up to the climax now, y'all.  
> Hope you're liking the story so far. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Keep the comments and the kudos coming :)

It had now been four months since the last attack, and nearly everyone seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Harry and Hermione had still not spoken to Hagrid and were no closer to figuring out any of their jumble of clues, or who had taken the diary. In better news, several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in Greenhouse Three which made Professor Sprout very happy. Apparently, it meant they were close to trying to move into each other’s pots, which meant they were very close to being mature enough for the Restoration potion.

Lockhart re-appeared with fully regrown hair; his smile vaguely dimmed. Both sets of twins had taken to randomly changing the colour of his robes and hair, to the amusement of bystanders. Lockhart tried to take in stride, laughing it off, but Hermione could tell it was eating away at the vain fool. She assumed it was Fred and George who had put up posters all around the school of a bald Lockhart, titled No-Locks-Hart. They featured a variety of monsters eating Lockhart’s hair while the man himself stood there whimpering. She’d seen Lockhart furiously rip one down, but there was always another one pasted up in another corridor.

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione, at least, had a lot of opinions on.

< It could affect our whole future, > she told Harry, poring over the lists of potential subjects. < We need to pick the right stuff. >

< Gods, alright. Another thing to think about. What are the options again? >

< Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Muggle Studies, > Hermione recited.

< And we definitely can’t get rid of any of the core subjects? > Harry asked.

< Noooooo, we’re stuck with Binns for another two years, unless I figure out how to exorcise him, > Hermione moaned. < Now, we can pick three subjects maximum, which is a shame, cause I’d definitely like to do all of them. >

< I’m not living with the stress of you doing all those classes in my head, > Harry rebutted. < It seems like an easy choice to me. We do **not** need to do Muggle Studies, so we’ve just gotta boot out one of the others. >

< I really want to do Arithmancy, and I think you’d like that too, > Hermione said.

< And I think Care of Magical Creatures would be good, given the number of monsters we seem to come across, > Harry said.

< So, Ancient Runes or Divination, > Hermione said. < Do we know much about them? >

< What’s Divination again? > Harry asked.

< So no is the answer to that question. Maybe we could speak to the Professors about it, talk to them about their classes and what they involve, > Hermione mused.

< Sure, that couldn’t hurt, > Harry said.

-/-

< I’m not doing this class, > Hermione panted, as they climbed their seventh long staircase. Divination was apparently at the top of the North Tower. < Exercise is all well and good, but this is ludicrous. > She looked around the unfamiliar corridor. < Where the hell are we? >

Harry leant against the wall, catching his breath, only to jump when one of the paintings started shouting at him. 

“What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands? Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!”

They watched in astonishment as the knight in the painting tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, hopping up and down in rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed face down in the grass, which made Hermione snort loudly.

“Get back, you braggarts, you rogues!”

Harry watched in disbelief as the knight seized his sword again and used it to push himself back up, but the blade sank deeply into the grass and, though he pulled with all his might, he couldn’t get it out again. Hermione dissolved into silent giggles at the sight.

“Listen,” said Harry, taking advantage of the knight’s exhaustion, “we’re looking for the North Tower. You don’t know the way, do you?”

“A quest!” The knight’s rage seemed to vanish instantly. He clanked to his feet and shouted, “Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!”

He gave the sword another fruitless tug, tried and failed to mount the fat pony, and cried, “On foot then, good sir and gentle lady! On! On!” And he ran, clanking loudly, into the left-hand side of the frame and out of sight.

Casting bemused looks at each other, they headed down the corridor, following the sound of his armour. Every now and then they spotted him running through a picture ahead.

Puffing loudly, they climbed the tightly spiralling steps, getting dizzy, until at last they cleared the final step, and found themselves emerge at the top of the tower.

“Farewell!” cried the knight, popping his head into a painting of some sinister-looking monks. “Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!”

< May we never see that lunatic again, > Harry muttered. < This class is too far away from everything else; I don't wanna do it. >

< Neither, but we’re here now, so we may as well speak to the Professor. Maybe she’ll change our minds, > Hermione said, looking around for the door. < Or maybe not, how the hell do you get in? > Harry nudged her and pointed at the ceiling, where there was a circular trap door with a brass plaque. Hermione looked up in confusion. < Ok, but my question remains, how the hell do you get in? >

“Errr … hello?” Harry called out. “How do we get in?”

In answer to his question, the trap door suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at their feet. < Ladies first, > he said, grinning at his sister. She shot him a dark look before climbing up the ladder.

They emerged into the strangest-looking classroom they’d seen. It didn’t even look like a classroom; more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned teashop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire which was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls and a huge array of teacups.

< This is too much, > Harry said, looking around in vague disgust.

< Where is this Professor anyway? > Hermione said, squinting through the hazy dimness of the room.

“Welcome,” came a voice suddenly out of the shadows, making them step back and nearly trip over one of the pouffes. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”

< Why can no-one in this world introduce themselves in bright light? > Hermione said. < Also, would be nice to maybe see you in the physical world, oh weird voice in the gloom. >

A woman emerged from the gloom, peering closely at them. Their first impression was of a large, glittering insect. The professor moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

“I have seen you coming in the cards, my dears,” she said. “But of course, you have not met me before. I am Professor Trelawney. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye, but I have been most anxious to meet you two.”

< That’s rarely a good thing, > Hermione muttered. < No-one fun ever wants to meet us. >

“We're in the process of picking our classes for next year,” Harry said, “and thought we should try to find out more about them.”

“But, my dears, obviously you should be choosing Divination, ones such as yourselves,” Trelawney said in her hushed tones.

“What does that mean?” Hermione said bluntly.

“You are Children of Fate,” Trelawney answered, as though it was obvious. “I know not if you will have the Sight, the ability to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future, as it is a Gift granted to few, but regardless, as Children of Fate, you must study Divination.”

Harry and Hermione stared at her blankly. < I don’t know what that means, > Harry said dumbly. < What’s a Child of Fate? >

< Probably nothing good, > Hermione murmured.

Trelawney moved to the fire, taking an enormous silver teapot from the shelf and one cup, putting it down on the table closest to the twins. “Have a seat, my dears,” she said, pouring a cup of tea. “I would like to read your tea leaves.”

“There’s only one cup,” Harry said nervously, the heavily perfumed smoke in the room making him feel sleepy and stupid.

“And you are only one pair,” Trelawney replied. “Drink until only the dregs remain, both of you. Swill these around the cup three times with your left hand, then turn the cup upside-down on its saucer; wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give me the cup to read.”

< Gods, this feels like another trap, > Hermione said, as they went back and forth taking sips of the scalding tea. Harry swilled the dregs around as instructed before handing the cup back to Trelawney. They perched nervously on their pouffes as she looked into the cup.

Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it anti-clockwise, a look of deep concentration on her face.

“The falcon … my dears, you have a deadly enemy.”

Hermione just held back a loud snort at that pronouncement. < Do we really? That’s brand-new information. >

“The club … an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup …” she said, still rotating the cup. “The skull … danger in your path, my dears …” She gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed loudly. She sank backwards, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed. Harry snatched the cup up and peered into it. < Just looks like tea leaves, > he said.

< Don’t quit your day job, > Hermione jibed.

“My poor children … no – it is kinder not to say – no – don’t ask me … don’t ask me!”

< No-one **has** asked you, > Hermione said, eyeing off the professor in distaste.

Professor Trelawney’s huge eyes opened dramatically, and she let out a wail. “My dears,” she said, “you have the Grim.”

“The **what**?” Hermione said, looking unimpressed.

“The Grim, my dears, the Grim!” cried Professor Trelawney, looking shocked that they hadn’t understood. “The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards. It is an omen – the worst omen – of death!”

“Right,” Hermione said. “So our cup shows danger, death, and a deadly enemy. There we go, Harry, no need to study for exams after all,” her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, this has been enlightening, thank you so much Professor.”

“You will see me again, Children of Fate,” Trelawney said ominously.

< Somehow, I don’t think so, > Hermione said, dragging Harry out of the classroom.

< Ancient Runes it is, > Harry said. < Professor Babbling can't be as mental as that. >

-/-

They woke to brilliant sunshine and a light, refreshing breeze.

“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” said Flint enthusiastically at the Slytherin table. Hermione heaped scrambled eggs onto Harry’s plate.

< I’ll kill you with your broomstick if you get into mortal danger again, > she threatened.

< Well, as long as Dobby doesn’t try anything again, it should be fine, > he said. < Just try to get there sooner next time so Lockhart doesn’t remove my bones, > he joked, quelling slightly as fire flashed in Hermione’s eyes. < It’ll be fine, Mi. I’ll see you down there, ok. >

As he left the Great Hall with Draco to go and collect their Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to their growing list of worries. He had just set foot on the marble staircase when he heard it yet again: _“Kill this time … let me rip … tear …”_

He jumped at the sound, looking around and panicking, and Draco turned to stare at him in alarm. Harry looked at him, but Draco gave no indication that he’d heard anything out of the ordinary. < The voice, Mi. I just heard it again. >

Hermione had already dashed over to him. < I know! >

Draco continued to look at them in alarm. “What are you guys doing?”

They looked at him and the bond lit up as it clicked. “You can’t hear it!” they chorused, which only made Draco look more concerned.

< IT’S A SNAKE! > Harry shouted.

< I know! Oh gods, it seems so obvious now. Of course, the monster in Slytherin’s chamber is a fucking snake! That’s why we can hear it, and why it has to be his Heir who opens the Chamber. You need to speak Parseltongue! >

Harry rapidly paled again. < It said it wanted to kill, Mi. Fuck, it’s going to attack someone. >

< Oh, shit! >

Without a further word, they dashed off together, leaving Draco standing there in utter confusion.

They hurtled through the corridors, stopping every now and then to see if they could hear anything, but there was nothing. After twenty minutes of searching, they conceded defeat.

< Everyone will be outside now, > Harry said. < Which is where I need to be. Flint will kill me if I miss the match. >

Another few minutes of sprinting later, and he made it to the pitch just in time as the teams started to walk out onto the pitch, to the usual mix of applause and boos. He was just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall came half-marching, half-running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. “All students are to make their way back to the house common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”

Harry waded through the crowd towards Hermione. < This is bad, Mi. We’re gonna have to talk to Hagrid. We need to solve this. >

< I still don’t think he did this, > Hermione said. < It’s just so convenient for Riddle to know exactly where Hagrid was at the exact moment that it was beneficial to him. >

< I know, but we still need to see what Hagrid knows. >

They made their way towards the castle slowly with the rest of the school. They had nearly reached the main entrance when Professor Snape suddenly appeared in front of them, looking grim.

< Gods, not another trip to Dumbledore’s office, > Hermione moaned.

“I must ask you two to go and wait in the library in the meantime,” Snape said in a low voice.

Harry made a confused face. “But Professor McGonagall told us to go to the Common Room? Why do you want us to go to the library?”

“Because I am about to go and tell the entirety of Slytherin House that two of their own have been attacked and are now lying Petrified in the infirmary, and they are going to think that you have turned on your own,” he said, holding up his hand as Hermione opened her mouth. “I know you are not the ones responsible for this, and I will speak to the House about it, but in the meantime, I must ask that you remain in the library. I will come and speak with you later.”

“Sir,” Harry said quickly. “Who was attacked?”

He gave them a sad look. “Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know Pansy definitely carries a mirror around with her to check her hair.  
> I bet she never thought it'd save her life though.


	20. Follow the Spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have passed out at the sight of a spider the size of a horse. Truly, my heart would have packed it in then and there. Cannot imagine anything worse. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what you think :)  
> Also, I am not doing anything that I'm meant to be doing on my week off, but I'm having such a nice time writing this story, so you know.

Several hours later and Hermione was about to go tearing through the school out of boredom. < Either the entire House has killed Snape, or the monster has rampaged through the whole school and we’re the only ones left alive, > she said.

Harry returned and dropped a stack of books onto the table with a loud thump. < Well, we better figure out what the monster is, then. We’ve been scouring the library half the afternoon and we’re no fucking closer. I thought this was supposed to be a good library, but there are basically no books on snakes here at all. >

< Anti-Slytherin bias, > Hermione sniffed, grabbing one of the books.

A few minutes later, she thumped the book back down again. < Forget this. We need to go and talk to Hagrid and figure out what he knows. > She stuffed some of the books into her bag. < We can read these later. Hagrid might even know what the monster is, > she said.

< Snape will kill us if he comes to the library and we’re not here, > Harry said.

< Snape wanting to kill us is basically his baseline, > Hermione replied. < Anyway, we’ve got the Cloak. Come on, let’s go visit Hagrid. >

Harry sighed and followed her out of the library. < I don’t suppose my broom will fit in that bag, > he said.

< Probably will actually. I got Burke to expand it for me even further, so I could fit more textbooks in it, > Hermione said, opening the bag. Harry dubiously shoved the broom in, quietly amazed when the bag swallowed the whole thing. < Impressive, right! >

It was dark outside, as they crept through the large oak doors, the stars on full display. They hurried towards the lit windows of Hagrid’s house, and pulled off the cloak only when they were right outside his front door.

Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face to face with him aiming a crossbow at them, Fang the boarhound barking loudly behind him.

“Oh,” he said, lowering the weapon and staring at them. “What’re you two doin’ here?”

“What’s that for?” said Harry, eyeing off the loaded crossbow as they stepped inside.

“Nothin’ … nothin’,” Hagrid muttered. “I’ve bin expectin’ … doesn’ matter … Sit down, I’ll make tea …”

He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand, and kept glancing nervously at the windows.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other nervously, both thinking the same thing. < Fuck this, > Hermione said. < We just need to ask him. He’s our friend! >

< Well, after you, > Harry said.

Hermione took a deep breath in just as there was a loud knock on the door. She exchanged panic-stricken looks with Harry, before diving for her bag and pulling out the Cloak. Throwing it over themselves, they retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that they were hidden, seized his crossbow and flung open his door once more.

“Good evening, Hagrid.”

It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man. The stranger was a short, portly man with rumpled grey hair and an anxious expression. He was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pin-striped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler.

< It’s the Minister of Magic, > Hermione said in shock. < Basically, the fucking Prime Minister. Oh, this is bad, Me, this is really bad. >

Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to the Minister.

“Bad business, Hagrid,” said the Minister, in rather clipped tones. “Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on students, and the latest one … Things have gone far enough. The Ministry has to act!”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his wording. Harry had picked up on it too. < They care now because a Pureblood has been attacked, > he said darkly.

“I never,” said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore, “you know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir …”

“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” said Dumbledore, frowning at the man.

“Look, Albus,” said the Minister, uncomfortably. “Hagrid’s record is against him. Ministry’s got to do something – the school governors have been in touch.”

“Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest,” said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire that neither Harry nor Hermione had ever seen before.

“Look at it from my point of view,” said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. “I’m under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty – “

“Take me?” said Hagrid, who was trembling. “Take me where?”

< This is so fucking typical, > Hermione seethed. < Where was the Ministry when Justin was attacked? He’s just a Muggle-born though, so who cares? They should have been here the moment that message was written. >

< Yeah, well, I think there are a few people to blame for that, > Harry said. < Dumbledore hasn’t exactly done anything, has he? >

< Well, now there’s pressure on the Ministry because it’s the Purebloods who hold most of the power, apparently. It’s not right! >

< Look, we need to get out of this cabin, as our most immediate priority, and then survive the rest of the year. Restructuring the entire political process in this country will have to wait, > Harry said.

“For a short stretch only,” said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid’s eyes. “Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology …”

“Not Azkaban?” croaked Hagrid.

Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door. Dumbledore answered it and in strolled Lucius Malfoy.

< Why do we always end up at these weird parties? > Hermione said, eyeing off Draco’s father, who had stridden into Hagrid’s hut, swathed in a long black travelling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile.

“Already here, Fudge,” he said approvingly. “Good, good …”

“What’re you doin’ here?” Hagrid growled. “Get outta my house!”

“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your – er – d’you call this a house?” said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. “I simply called at the school and was told that the Headmaster was here.”

“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but Harry could see the fire still blazing in his blue eyes.

“Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,” said Mr Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, “but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension – you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? And today, a simply awful attack on the children of House Parkinson and House Greengrass. We can’t stand for it.”

“Oh, now, see here, Lucius,” said Fudge, looking alarmed. “Dumbledore suspended … no, no … last thing we want just now …”

“The appointment – or suspension – of the Headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge,” said Mr Malfoy smoothly. “And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks …”

“Now look, Lucius, if Dumbledore can’t stop them –“ said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now, “I mean to say, who can?”

< I don’t get it, > Harry said. < None of these people have done anything remotely useful to stop these attacks. >

“That remains to be seen,” said Mr Malfoy, with a nasty smile. “But as all twelve of us have voted …”

Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling. “An’ how many did yeh have ter threaten an’ blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?” he roared.

“Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid,” said Mr Malfoy. “I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won’t like it at all.”

“Yeh can’ take Dumbledore,” yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. “Take him away, an’ the students, especially the Muggle-borns, won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’s next!”

“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” Dumbledore said sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy. “If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside. However, you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

For a second, the twins were sure that Dumbledore’s eyes flickered towards the corner where they stood hiding. < He’s not talking to us, is he? What does that even mean? > Harry said.

“Admirable sentiments,” said Malfoy, bowing. “We shall all miss your – er – highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any – ah – ‘killin’s’.”

Hermione muffled a snort at that. < He’s got the back-handed compliment down pat, I’ll give him that. >

Malfoy strode to the cabin door, opened it and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath and said carefully, “If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That’d lead ‘em right! That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Fudge stared at him in utter confusion.

“All right, I’m comin’,” said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat, before stopping again. “An’ someone’ll need ter feed Fang while I’m away.”

The door banged shut and Hermione pulled the Cloak off, collapsing into one of the chairs. < What the fuck do we do now? >

< You’re not going to like it, > Harry said. < But we came to figure out what Hagrid knows, so that means, we’re gonna have to follow the spiders. >

< You’re right, Me! I don’t like it! >

“C’mon, Fang, we’re going for a walk,” Harry said, opening the door and patting his leg. Fang bounded happily out of the house behind them, dashing to the edge of the forest. Harry took out his wand, murmured _“Lumos”_ , a tiny light giving him just enough light to watch the path. A few seconds later, he found what he was looking for. Two solitary spiders were hurrying away from the wandlight into the Forest.

< We nearly fucking died in this Forest last year, > Hermione grumbled.

< Well, that was Voldemort. What’s gonna be worse than him? > Harry said cheerfully.

So, with Fang scampering around them, sniffing tree roots and leaves, they entered the forest. By the glow of their wands, they followed the steady trickle of spiders moving along the path. They walked for about twenty minutes, listening hard for noises other than breaking twigs and rustling leaves. Then, when the trees had become thicker than ever, so the stars overhead were no longer visible, and the wandlight shone alone in the sea of dark, they saw their spider guides leaving the path.

< Gods, we’re gonna die in this forest, > Hermione said. < Hagrid said not to leave the path. >

< Well, he also said to follow the spiders, > Harry countered. < We’ve come this far. >

So they followed the darting shadows of the spiders into the trees. They couldn’t move very quickly now; there were tree roots and stumps in their way, barely visible in the near blackness. More than once, they had to stop in order to crouch down and find the spiders again.

They walked for what seemed like at least half an hour, their robes snagging on low-slung branches and brambles. After a while, they noticed that the ground seemed to be sloping downwards, though the trees were as thick as ever.

Then Fang suddenly let loose a great, echoing bark, making both Harry and Hermione jump out of their skins. Hermione lost her footing in the dark and tumbled down the slope they were standing on, rolling over and over, screaming over the bond.

Harry scrambled after her, barely keeping upright, as he plunged down the hill. He found her down the bottom and hurled her upright, hands brushing the dirt out of her hair and robes. She looked at him and he gave her a brief shake. He kept brushing the dirt and leaves off her. < Talk to me, Mi, are you ok? Did you hit your head? >

She didn’t reply. Harry looked at her closely. Her eyes were fixed on a point some ten feet above the forest floor, right behind Harry.

A deep fear washed through him, saturating the bond, and he didn’t dare turn around. He grabbed her hand and started running.

Before they’d gone two paces, there was a loud clicking noise and suddenly they each felt something long and hairy seize them around the middle and lift them off the ground, so that they were hanging face down. Next thing, they were being swept away into the dark trees. Head hanging, Harry saw what Hermione had seen that her terrified her so. Eight immensely long, hairy legs, the front two clutching him tightly below a pair of shining black pincers. He tried to talk to his sister but found his brain completely empty with fear.

Neither of them knew how long they were carried for; they only knew that the darkness suddenly lifted enough for them to see that the leaf-strewn ground was now swarming with spiders. Craning his neck sideways, Harry realised that they had reached the rim of a vast hollow, a hollow which had been cleared of trees, so that the stars shone brightly onto the worst scene he had ever clapped eyes upon.

Spiders. Not tiny spiders like those surging over the leaves below. Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic. The massive spider that was carrying him made its way down the steep slope towards a misty domed web in the very centre of the hollow, while its fellows closed in all around it, clicking their pincers excitedly at the sight of its load.

The spiders dropped Harry and Hermione, who thudded down onto the ground, and immediately clutched each other.

< This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to us, > Hermione said, her voice shaking and weak.

They suddenly realised that one of the spiders that had dropped them was saying something. It had been hard to tell, because it clicked its pincers with every word it spoke.

“Aragog,” it called. “Aragog!”

And from the middle of the misty domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was grey in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was milky white. He was blind.

“What is it?” he said, clicking his pincers rapidly.

“Men,” clicked the spider.

“Is it Hagrid?” said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes wandering vaguely.

“Strangers,” clicked the spider.

“Kill them,” clicked Aragog fretfully. “I was sleeping …”

“We’re friends of Hagrid’s,” Harry choked out, his heart pounding out of his body.

Aragog paused.

“Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before,” he said slowly.

“Hagrid’s in trouble,” Hermione said, finding her voice, breathing very fast. “That’s why we’ve come.”

“In trouble?” said the aged spider, and Hermione thought she heard concern beneath the clicking pincers. “But why has he sent you?”

“They think, up at the school, that Hagrid’s been setting a – a – something on students. They’ve taken him to Azkaban,” Harry said shakily.

Aragog clicked his pincers furiously, and all around the hollow the sound was echoed by the crowd of spiders; it was like applause, except applause didn’t usually make the twins feel sick with fear.

< This is worse than Voldemort, > Hermione whispered. < I’d give anything to see his ugly face. >

“But that was years ago,” said Aragog. “Years and years ago. I remember it well. That’s why they made him leave the school. They believed that I was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free.”

“And you … you didn’t come from the Chamber of Secrets?” asked Harry, feeling seconds away from throwing up.

Aragog clicked angrily at that. “I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveller gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid’s goodness …”

< If we survive this, I’m going to kill Hagrid, > Hermione said firmly, before screwing up the rest of her courage. “So you never attacked anyone?”

“Never,” croaked the old spider. “It would have been my instinct, but from respect of Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like the dark and the quiet …”

“Do you know what did kill that girl?” asked Hermione. “Because whatever it is, it’s back and attacking people again –“

Her words were drowned by a loud outbreak of clicking and the rustling of many long legs shifting angrily; large black shapes shifted all around him.

“The thing that lives in the castle,” said Aragog, “is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the school.”

“What is it?” Harry said urgently.

More loud clicking, more rustling; the spiders seemed to be closing in.

“We do not speak of it!” Aragog said fiercely. “We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me many times.”

“Well, we’ll just go then,” Harry said, on the edge of what felt like a complete nervous breakdown, slowly backing away from the ancient spider.

“Go?” said Aragog slowly. “I think not. My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command, but I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Goodbye, friends of Hagrid.”

All sound dropped away as Harry and Hermione stood in the middle of the clearing, watching as thousands of spiders slowly crept towards them. Hermione, oddly, felt entirely calm, her heart thudding against her chest. The bond roiled furiously, burning hot between them as they reached for their wands.

< Me Me, > Hermione enunciated slowly. < I’m going to burn them. Find your fucking broom. >

She leaned into the glowing light of the bond, took a deep breath in, and then quickly whipped her wand around her head, screaming _“INCENDIO!”_

A whip of bright red flame shot around the clearing, incinerating the closest spiders. Hermione kept pouring more into the spell, letting the magic of the bond flow through her as she directed great gouts of flame towards the spiders circling her.

Harry rummaged furiously through her bag, finally pulling out his precious Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he mounted the broom. < Now, Mi Mi! > he shouted. She abruptly stopped the spell and jumped on the back of the broom, hugging him tightly.

Screaming loudly, they sped towards the sky, dodging spiders that jumped from the trees towards them, until they cleared the top of the spiders' hollow. Without pausing, they shot over the canopy back towards the glimmering lights of the castle.

Landing outside Hagrid’s cabin, they found Fang sitting by the door, wagging his tail. “Some help you were, you fucking coward,” Hermione said, patting him on the head.

“I’ll never forgive Hagrid,” Harry said out loud. “Follow the fucking spiders.”

“We’re lucky to be fucking alive. That forest is fucking cursed,” Hermione spat, wrenching open the door to the cabin.

“I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,” said Harry.

“Well, that’s his fucking problem, isn’t it? That’s how he ends up with dragons in his fucking house and being sent to fucking prison. What was the fucking point? What did the spiders tell us?”

“Well, we know it definitely wasn’t him,” Harry said, pouring tea for the two of them. “And we know that spiders fear it.”

“And we know it’s a snake,” Hermione said, mulling it all over. “Come on, we better get back to the library. We’ve just survived one murder attempt, don’t want to give Snape an excuse to do us in.”

There was still no-one in the library when they crept back in, the lights dimly illuminating the bookshelves. < Come on, Me, > Hermione said. < Let’s keep researching. >


	21. It's A F***ing Basilisk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Scooby gang is putting the puzzle together!  
> But jinkies, guys. What will happen next? 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Let me know what y'all think :) :)

Harry peeled his eyes open, shaking the remnants of sleep from his brain. He looked around and realised they were still in the library. They must have dozed off. < Wake up, Mi, > he said, giving her a nudge. She jerked awake violently, staring around in a panic. < Relax, Mi, it’s just me. We just fell asleep. >

< What time is it? > she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Harry cast the Tempus charm, which flashed up the time of 6am. < Ugh, gods, why are we awake? > he groaned.

< I can’t believe Snape forgot about us, > Hermione said, glancing around the empty library. She stretched out her aching limbs. < Did you get any closer with the research? >

< No, > Harry muttered. < Someone must have removed all the relevant books or ripped out the pages. >

< I’ll finish this last one off, I fell asleep on it last night. Wanna go see if Pince keeps any snacks stashed anywhere? >

Harry wandered off to search the office, hoping the door wasn’t locked. He went over the events of the previous night, still unbelieving that they’d managed to survive. Not that it had helped them. The creature that was lurking somewhere in the castle sounded like a sort of monster Voldemort – even other monsters didn’t want to name it. He found it hard to believe it could be more monstrous than the spiders. All the clues had led to dead ends. Riddle had caught the wrong person, the heir of Slytherin had got off, and no-one could tell whether it was the same person, or a different one, who had opened the Chamber this time. At least no-one had died this time, although with Dumbledore now gone, he did wonder if things wouldn’t continue to get worse. He poked his head into one of Pince’s cupboards when it struck him. The bond lit up and he jumped up, smashing the back of his head into the top of the cupboard.

He dashed back out to the main area.

< I’ve got it, > they yelled at each other at the same time, then stopped and stared at each other.

< What have you got? > Hermione asked. < Cause I’m not seeing any food in your hand. >

< The girl – the girl who died! Aragog said she was found in a bathroom, > Harry said urgently. < What if she never left the bathroom? What if she’s still there? >

< Moaning Myrtle! > Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening.

< Hang on, what have you got? > Harry asked.

< I know what the monster is! > she said excitedly, dragging him over an ancient textbook, pointing at the open page.

'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'

The bond lit up between them as they read the words. < It’s a fucking Basilisk, > Harry said in wonderment. < Hang on, how come no-one’s died then? >

Hermione thought carefully for a few seconds before it clicked. < Because no-one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The Basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin … must have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick. Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn’t die again … and Pansy and Daphne. I don’t know but they mustn’t have looked at it directly. >

< And Mrs Norris … she saw the reflection in the water, Myrtle flooded the bathroom, > Harry finished.

< The rooster feathers … > Hermione said. < Hagrid’s roosters were killed. The Heir didn’t want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! >

< It all fits, Mi, especially the spiders fleeing it, > Harry said. < But how is it getting around? A huge snake, surely someone would’ve seen it … >

< But we can hear it, > Hermione said. < Where have we been when we’ve heard it? >

< The walls! > Harry exclaimed. < It’s in the walls – no, it’s in the pipes! It’s using the plumbing. >

They gasped at once as it clicked. < MOANING MYRTLE’S BATHROOM! >

< We have to go tell someone, > Harry said. < One of the teachers. McGonagall, I suppose. She’ll be taking over from Dumbledore. But we have to tell someone so they can bring in like … I don’t know. Do we have police? >

< Focus, > Hermione said. < Come on, under the Cloak. Let’s go track down McGonagall. >

They crept out of the library before scurrying down the corridor towards the staff room. They slowly opened the door to an empty room. It was a large, panelled room full of dark wooden chairs. There was not a soul in sight. < Should we try Dumbledore’s office? > Harry asked. < Or … I dunno, the Gryffindor Common Room? >

Before Hermione could reply, Professor McGonagall’s voice came echoing through the corridors, magically magnified.

“All students to remain in their house dormitories. Any students outside their houses to return immediately. All teachers are to present to the staff room. Immediately, please.”

< It’s not even been 24 hours, > Hermione said, aghast. < How can there be another attack? >

< Never mind that, > Harry said, wrenching open the wardrobe in the room. < Get in, we don’t want to be found lurking in the fucking staffroom, but we need to hear what they’ve found out. >

From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

“It has happened,” she told the silent staff room. “Students have been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, “How can you be sure?”

“The Heir of Slytherin,” said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘Their skeletons will lie in the Chamber forever’.”

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

“Who is it?” asked Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed into a chair. “Which students?”

Professor McGonagall swallowed. “I’m not sure,” she said. “There are four students missing.”

< Oh shit, > Harry said.

“Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and the Potter twins,” McGonagall finished.

Hermione let out a low moan over the bond.

“We need to see if they’re all missing or if only some of them are. Regardless, we shall have to send all the students home tomorrow. This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said …”

The staff room banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry panicked, thinking it was the Basilisk. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

< Oh, great. We’re saved, > Hermione said savagely.

“So sorry – dozed off – what have I missed?”

He didn’t seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward, looking vicious.

“Just the man,” he said. “The very man. Students have been snatched by the monster. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.”

Lockhart blanched.

“That’s right, Gilderoy,” chipped in Professor Sprout. “Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?”

“I – well, I –“ spluttered Lockhart.

“Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?” piped up Professor Flitwick.

“D-did I? I don’t recall …”

“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested, although I do recall you being quite distressed over your hair - so understandable that you'd be distracted by that.” said Snape. “And didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?”

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues while Hermione shoved a fist in her mouth to stop the giggles at his gormless expression. “I … I really never … You may have misunderstood …”

“We’ll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy,” said Professor McGonagall. “Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.”

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn’t look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and weedy.

“V-very well,” he said. “I’ll – I’ll be in my office, getting – getting ready.” And he promptly fled the room.

“Right,” said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, “that’s got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?”

The teachers rose, and left one by one, leaving Harry and Hermione slumped in the wardrobe.

< Neville, > Hermione said quietly.

< Don’t lose hope, Mi, > Harry murmured. < They’ve only just been taken. We’ll just have to go and rescue him. We did it last year, we can do it again. Although, if Neville gets kidnapped again next year, then we might need to reconsider our friendship with him. >

< You’re right, Me, > Hermione said, punching the wardrobe door open. < It was Voldemort last year, this year it’s a fucking massive deadly snake. Basically the same thing. We just need a plan. >

< Well, I’ve got my broom. I’ll let you come up with the rest, > Harry said.

She turned to him, smiling her mean little snake smile. < I’ve got something good. >


	22. Down Into The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twins have finally found the Chamber of Secrets. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics
> 
> Sound off in the comments :)

< Did you drop your brain in the forest? > Harry asked incredulously. < This is Lockhart’s office. > There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

< We need him for several reasons, > Hermione countered. < One, neither of us can conjure a rooster and we need one to crow. Two, maybe he’ll die down there. Three, if he doesn’t and then writes a book about it, I will have everything I need to prove he’s lying. Four, he’s a body to hide behind. >

< Can never just be one thing with you, can it? > Harry muttered. < Next you’ll be bringing Binns … Whatever, Mi. > He knocked on the door and there was sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart’s eyes peering through it.

“Oh … Mr Potter, Miss Potter …” he said, opening the door a mite wider. “I’m rather busy at the moment. If you would be quick …”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick,” Hermione said, booting the door open and marching inside only to stop suddenly.

The office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. His brand-new robes had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. Hermione was pleased to see that he hadn’t managed to replace all the pictures of himself.

“Going somewhere?” Harry asked.

“Er, well, yes,” said Lockhart, continuing to stuff robes into the trunk. “Urgent call … unavoidable … got to go …”

“I knew it,” Hermione said triumphantly. “You’re running away because you’re a coward and a fraud!” Lockhart turned to her with an angry look on his face. “Admit it, admit you made up everything you wrote!”

“Fine, I admit it, but my books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No-one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hare lip. I mean, come on …”

“That’s even worse!” Hermione exclaimed. “It’s not even made up; you’re just taking credit for what a load of other people have done.”

“It’s not nearly as simple as that,” Lockhart argued, shaking his head impatiently. “There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been work! It’s not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog!” He slammed the lids of his trunks shut loudly.

“We seem to have gotten horribly off track,” Harry said, shooting a glare at Hermione. “We’re actually here about the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You can forget about that,” Lockhart said, pulling out his wand. “Quite literally. My apologies, of course, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my –“

He was abruptly blasted off his feet as Hermione cast an _“Expelliarmus!”_ She deftly caught his wand as it went flying and stalked after him, pointing both wands at him.

“Shut up and listen up,” she snarled.

“What d’you want me to do?” Lockhart said weakly. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.”

“What part of shut up was too hard for you to understand?” Hermione said.

“You’re in luck,” Harry continued over his sister. “We know where the Chamber is, and we know what’s inside it, so you’re coming with us.”

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. They sent Lockhart in first, Hermione pleased to see that he was shaking. Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the cistern of the end toilet.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, when she saw Harry. “What do you want this time?”

“To ask you how you died, Myrtle,” Harry replied.

Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question. “Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. “It happened right in here. I died in this very cubicle. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then –“ Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, “I died.”

“How?” said Harry.

“No idea,” said Myrtle in hushed tones. “I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away …” She looked dreamily at Harry. “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”

“Where exactly did you see the eyes?” asked Harry, feeling Hermione’s impatience.

“Right over there,” said Myrtle, pointing towards the sink.

Harry and Hermione hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face. It looked like an ordinary sink. They examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Hermione saw it: scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

“That tap’s never worked,” said Myrtle brightly, as they tried to turn it.

Harry and Hermione turned to each other. < This is it, > Harry whispered. < Parseltongue to open it. >

They looked closely at the little snake, before softly hissing, _“Open up,”_ together.

At once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move. The sink, in fact, sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, wide enough for a man to slide into. They had found the entrance to the Chamber.

Hermione turned to Lockhart, smiling meanly. “You first,” she said.

“Oh … well, you hardly – hardly seem to need me,” Lockhart tried.

Harry shoved him in and listened to him wail the whole way down.

< I wanted to do that, > Hermione whined, as she jumped in. Harry immediately jumped after her.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide. They could see more pipes branching off in all directions, but none as large as theirs, which twisted and turned, sloping steeply downwards, and they knew they were falling deeper below the school than even the dungeons. And then, just as they started to worry about what would happen if they hit the ground at this speed, the pipe levelled out, and they shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel.

< We must be miles under the school, > Harry said, peering around.

< Under the lake, probably. Look at all the water dripping, > Hermione replied, lighting up her wand.

The tunnel was so dark that they could only see a little distance ahead. Their shadows on the wet walls looked monstrous in the wandlight. The tunnel was quiet as the grave, and the first unexpected sound they heard was a loud crunch as Lockhart stepped on what turned out to be a rat’s skull. They realised the floor was littered with small animal bones, Lockhart whimpering at the sight.

Going deeper into the cavern, they froze at the outline of something huge and curved, lying right across the tunnel.

< Maybe it’s asleep, > Hermione choked. Lockhart’s eyes were pressed over his eyes and his knees were trembling. Hermione couldn’t even bring herself to enjoy the sight.

Harry took a deep breath and slowly edged forward, holding his wandlight out. The light slid over a gigantic snakeskin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor. The creature that had shed it must have been twenty feet long at least.

There was a sudden movement behind them as Lockhart fainted.

< What a useless twat, > Harry said. < Bets on next years Defence professor? >

< No doubt an equally useless knobhead, > Hermione spat, bending over Lockhart and slapping him around the head.

She shrieked as Lockhart suddenly opened his eyes and launched himself at her, knocking her to the ground.

Harry dived on top, scratching at Lockhart, as they all tussled on the filthy floor of the Chamber, their grunts and yells echoing off the stone walls.

Throwing them off, Lockhart straightened up, grinning triumphantly and holding up his wand. Harry hauled Hermione up and they stood there facing him, their wands held out.

“The adventure ends here!” he said. “And may I just say, how much I loathe the pair of you! You don’t deserve your fame! You did nothing for it, nothing! And you’re not even grateful! I’m going to enjoy this. Don’t worry though, it will make an excellent book. I’ll take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the students, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of their mangled bodies. Say goodbye to your memories!”

Three spells were shouted out – _"Obliviate!"_ from Lockhart, _"Expelliarmus!"_ from Harry, and _"Protego!"_ from Hermione.

Hermione’s shield, a shimmery bubble that enveloped the twins, flung out violently, and hit Lockhart’s spell mid-air. Harry’s spell landed dead on target and Lockhart was flung backwards, losing his wand in the process. Tugging on the bond, Hermione threw her shield out, the magic hitting every wall in the chamber and bathing the unconscious Lockhart.

There was silence for a brief second before a deep rumbling and cracking noise echoed through the chamber. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and sprinted as great chunks of the ceiling started thundering to the floor. They dived forward, narrowly avoiding the collapse.


	23. The Chamber of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chamber of Secrets beckons. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics
> 
> I hope y'all like this chapter.

< Well, I hope there’s another exit, > Hermione said, gazing up at the solid wall of broken rock.

< Forget that, are you ok, Mi? > Harry said, running his hands over her scalp, softly touching the gash over her cheekbone.

< I’m fine, Me. Thanks for jumping in and fighting, > Hermione said, looking down and shuddering. < He could have taken our memories because of my own arrogance. >

< Well, he didn’t, > Harry said firmly. < And he got what was coming for him. Besides, we can’t worry about that now. >

He took her hand and they trudged onwards. The tunnel turned and turned again, their nerves jangling unpleasantly. Before long, they came to a solid wall on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

< We need a new plan, > Hermione said. < We don’t have a rooster or any way of getting one. >

< We don’t even know what we’re going to find in there, > Harry said.

< Cloak and broom? > Hermione offered. < Invisible advantage and then quick getaway. We don’t have anything else. >

< I’m sure there’s a heavy textbook in this bag that I could drop on someone’s foot, > Harry said. < You go under the Cloak, I’ll keep the bag, and we go in together. >

< What do we have? > Hermione said.

< Just me and mine, > Harry replied. < Always. >

They turned back to the wall, the glittering eyes of the stone snakes looking strangely alive. _“Open up,”_ they whispered. The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves sliding smoothly out of sight as they nervously entered the true Chamber of Secrets.

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. They crept forward between the serpentine columns; their hollow eye sockets seemed to be following them. At the end of the chamber, rose a huge carved face with a long thin beard.

Hermione gasped, the noise echoing off the stone statues. Harry pinched his brow. < Element of surprise? > he said.

< Sorry! > she said. < But look, there at the base of the statue. >

Harry squinted through the gloom and saw it. At the maw of the mouth lay two black-robed figures, one with flaming red hair. He hurried forward, dropping to his knees in front of the pair.

Neville was unconscious, a gash across his forehead, and bound tightly in ropes. Harry checked that he was breathing, releasing a huge sigh of relief that he was. Then he turned to the girl – Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley clan. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn’t Petrified. He tried shaking her, but her head just lolled hopelessly from side to side. Hermione appeared beside him, taking off the Cloak, as she tried to work through the knots that encased Neville.

< I don’t understand, > she muttered. < Neither of them are Petrified. >

< Neither do I, > Harry replied. < A Basilisk couldn’t have done this. > He tried to check for a pulse on Ginny; she barely seemed to be breathing.

“She won’t wake,” came a soft voice.

Harry jumped at the noise. The soft thump of Hermione dropping Neville told him she’d heard it too. They frantically looked around the Chamber.

“Hello,” came the voice again, as a tall, black-haired boy appeared from around one of the snake pillars. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though being seen through a misted window.

“Tom Riddle?” Hermione said.

Riddle nodded, staring at them intensely.

“What do you mean, she won’t wake?” Harry said desperately. “Is she - ?”

“She’s still alive,” said Riddle. “But only just.”

They stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

< I can't believe I took the Cloak off, > Hermione cursed. < I don’t like this at all, Me. >

“What are you?” Harry asked uncertainly.

“A memory,” said Riddle quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” He pointed towards the floor near the statue’s mouth, near Ginny. Lying there was the little black diary they’d found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Hermione flicked her eyes back and forth between the diary and Riddle, her brain furiously ticking as she tried to get the pieces to fit together, but there was something she was missing.

Riddle kept staring at them intently. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” he said. “For the chance to see you, look at you in the flesh. To speak to you.”

< I’ll say it again. No-one fun ever wants to meet us, > Hermione said. “Who are you? How can you be here, after all these years?”

“I knew you’d be the smart one,” Riddle said. “Such interesting questions. And quite a long story. I am here because little Ginny Weasley opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”

“What are you talking about?” said Harry.

“The diary,” said Riddle. “My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books. How she’d waited so long to meet the famous Harry Potter from her childhood books, but he was in Slytherin, and oh, the woes. It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. ‘No-one’s ever understood me like you, Tom … I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in … It’s like having a friend I can carry round in my pocket …’” Riddle laughed, a high cold laugh that didn’t suit him, as he mocked Ginny. “If I say it myself, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her …” He laughed again.

< I didn’t think ghosts could possess people, > Harry said slowly.

< They can’t, > Hermione replied, not taking her eyes off Riddle. < He’s not a ghost, I don’t know what he is. >

Riddle gave a wide smile that seemed to stretch the skin over his skull. “Have you figured it out yet, oh clever one? Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed the threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent on the students.”

“And how does Neville play into this?” Hermione asked.

“Another one with a weak soul. Poor lonely Longbottom, so unloved by his own family and his own House. He tried to befriend poor Ginny, and unfortunately,” Riddle said, his face twisting, “he noticed there was something off, which not even her own family cared to see. Neville simply got in my way.”

“They’re both far better than you’ll ever be,” Hermione said.

“Oh, I don’t know. It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary. You should have seen some of her diary entries. ‘Dear Tom, I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween. Oh, Tom, there was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. I think I’m going mad, Tom.’ What a little fool. I will give her some credit though; she finally did become suspicious enough and tried to dispose of the diary. And that’s where you two come in! You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people in this school, it was you two, the ones I was most anxious to meet …”

“Because we’re such charming people?” Hermione spat, anger curling through her.

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you two. Your whole fascinating history.” His eyes roved over the scars on their foreheads, his expression hungry. “I knew I had to find out more about you, talk to you, meet you. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust.”

“Hagrid’s our friend,” Harry said, his voice shaking. “And you framed him, didn’t you? We thought you’d made a mistake, but –“

Riddle laughed coldly again. “It was my word against Hagrid’s. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, sneaking off to the forbidden forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realise that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken **me** five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance … as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. He certainly never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did …”

“How difficult for you,” Hermione sniped, still watching closely.

“Well, he certainly kept an annoying close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” Riddle said carelessly. “I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.”

“You’ve perverted his goals,” Hermione said. “It is you who was unworthy to study magic, and magic has clearly spoken. No-one has died this time. The Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be right again.”

“That doesn’t matter to me anymore,” Riddle spat. “For many months now, my new target has been you two.”

“What?” Harry said.

“Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me. She saw you drop the diary out of your bag and panicked. She’s the one who shouted that you were attacking someone, making the crowd panic, just so she could snatch the diary back that day. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her precious secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters? It didn’t matter though. It was clear to me that you two were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir, I knew you’d solve the mystery. So, I made Ginny write her own farewell. Neville found her doing it, so we had to take him out too. And then I dragged them down here to wait, for you two to come and heroically save them. Not that it matters for Ginny, there isn’t much life left in her. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last, so that I could wait for you two to come. I have so many questions.”

< Fuck me dead, even Lockhart didn’t grandstand this much, > Hermione said. “What questions then?”

Riddle’s face twisted again. “How is it that mere babies with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but matching scars, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?” There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now.

“What are you, a fan?” Hermione said. “Try getting a life, Voldemort’s naught but a shade.”

“Voldemort,” said Riddle softly, “is my past, present, and future. Watch …”

He pulled a wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name re-arranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my **filthy** Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No! I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Hermione said, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes. “Did Daddy not love you? That’s sooo sad. We grew up in a fucking cupboard because you murdered our parents, you piece of shit, so if you’re talking tragic back story, we’ve got you well beat.”

“You dare talk to me that way?” Riddle hissed.

“You’re not even the greatest sorcerer in the world,” Harry said conversationally. “I mean, we beat you when we were babies. Half the people in our world don’t even know who you are, but everyone knows who we are.”

“And Dumbledore, old goat that he may be, is considered to be the greatest sorcerer in the world. Probably because he didn’t get beaten by two babies,” Hermione said, baring all her teeth at Riddle.

Rage contorted Riddle’s handsome face into something baser. “Dumbledore’s been driven out of the castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed.

“He got kicked out by a power-hungry governor. Like we said, no-one knows who you are,” Hermione said. “I can’t believe people were afraid of you. ‘Oooh, I’m Voldemort, look at my fancy name, my parents didn’t love me, wahhh’.” She snorted dismissively. < If he’s going to murder us, then I’m going to piss him off before we die, > she said to Harry.

Riddle opened his mouth in rage but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere. They all whirled around to stare down the empty chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that it felt like it was vibrating inside their bones, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It has a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripped around a ragged bundle. A second later, the bird flew over them, and dropped the ragged thing it was carrying right on top of Neville, before swooping down and perching on Neville’s prone form.

Riddle, Harry, Hermione, and the bird all eyed each other back and forth. No-one moved.

< This is another one of these weird parties we find ourselves at, isn’t it? > Harry muttered.

< That’s fucking Dumbledore’s pet, > Hermione replied.

“That’s a phoenix,” Riddle said perplexedly. “And that’s the Sorting Hat.” He started laughing. “This is what Dumbledore’s arms his defenders with.” His laughter echoed throughout the chamber.

< He’s got a fucking point, > Hermione said as the bird continued to sit on Neville.

“To business,” Riddle said once he’d stopped laughing. “Twice before, we three have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk, you longer you stay alive.”

“You murdered our mother, you piece of shit,” Harry said flatly. “She died for us, that’s why you couldn’t kill us.”

“And as for the last encounter,” Hermione said smirking. “You’re a wreck, you’re barely alive. Greatest sorcerer, my ass. You’re nothing, you’re formless, clinging to life like a desperate rat. You’re ugly and foul. It wasn’t hard to defeat you at all.”

“So, there’s nothing special about you two at all?” Riddle said. “I did wonder, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by filthy Muggles. Parselmouths, like the great Slytherin himself. We even look alike.”

“Nope, nothing special about us,” Hermione smiled. “But there’s nothing special about you either.”

“We’ll see about that,” Riddle spat. “Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Potter twins.” He turned to the great stone statue and started hissing. _“Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.”_

They stared up at the stone face in horror as the mouth started opening, wider and wider, to make a huge black hole. Something was stirring inside the statue’s mouth; something was slithering up from its depths.

< FUCK! > Hermione screeched. She dashed over to Neville and pulled out her knife. < Start talking in Parseltongue, see if you can reason with it. >

< **Reason** with it? It’s a fucking huge snake. I wanna cut Neville free, > Harry said, screwing his eyes shut, as something huge hit the stone floor of the chamber. _“Stop, oh great one! The one who spoke before is false.”_

“Get off!” Hermione hissed at the bird as she cut through all the ropes binding Neville. The phoenix ignored her and leant over Neville’s face and dropped a single tear on his forehead. Hermione watched in amazement as the wound on Neville’s head healed in seconds and Neville opened his eyes.

 _“Ignore him,”_ Riddle said. _“Kill them all!”_

 _“NO!”_ Harry shouted. _“This is not what the great Salazar wanted.”_

Hermione hauled Neville to his feet, listening to Harry and Riddle go back and forth. “Pay attention, Nev. We’re fucked again but this time there’s no way out. We have to kill Voldemort and maybe the snake too,” she whispered quickly. "Oh, and it's a Basilisk so keep your eyes closed."

Neville looked at her in utter horror, the Sorting Hat grasped in his hands.

She smiled grimly and screwed her eyes shut, turning towards the snake. _“Listen, oh great one. Our great ancestor Slytherin put you here to protect the students against threats, to remove those unworthy of magic. In the spirit of his beloved Valentina, I implore you. It is Riddle who is unworthy!”_ She heard Riddle hiss with rage. < What the hell are we gonna do, Me? > she said. < We can’t even fucking see. >

“Enough!” said Riddle savagely. Waving the wand around, he muttered a long enchantment and shot it at the Basilisk. “All your fancy words can’t save you! She will answer only to me now!” He turned again to the giant snake, _“Kill them all, I command you!”_

< Now, we’re really fucked, > she said. Squinting her eyes open a tiny bit, she grabbed both Harry and Neville and ran towards one of the many snake pillars. “Split up,” she said, and dashed down one of the laneways. Neville clumsily ran away, still holding the Sorting Hat in his outstretched hands.

Harry ran blindly sideways before tripping and slamming into the rock-hard floor. There was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above him and then something heavy hit Harry so hard that he was smashed against the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body, he heard more mad hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars. He opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was going on.

The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great head was weaving between the pillars. The phoenix – Fawkes, he remembered balefully – was soaring around its head. It dived and his long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. Harry saw that both of the Basilisk’s eyes had been punctured, blood still dripping from the empty sockets. Eyes now wide open, he sprinted away from the snake which was spitting in agony.

< It’s been blinded, > he shouted desperately. < The phoenix blinded it. >

 _“No!”_ Harry heard Riddle screaming. _“Leave the bird! Get the boy and the girl! You can smell them. Kill them both!”_

Hermione opened her eyes and found herself far down one of the snake paths, the distant battle echoing softly up towards her. She turned around and started running right back the way she’d come. She ploughed right into Neville who was stumbling with his eyes closed at a crossroads and they went tumbling to the ground.

“Open your eyes, Nev,” she whispered. “The Basilisk has been blinded. We can see it now, so we just need to kill it.”

“Yeah, just kill an ancient ginormous snake,” Neville said, his voice shaking.

“That’s the spirit,” she said, grabbing his hand. He put the Hat onto his head and quickly picked up a large rock from the floor. They ran back towards the noise.

They fell again as Neville gave out a loud cry. He grabbed his head, moaning in agony, before wrenching off the Sorting Hat. A gleaming silver sword fell out of the Hat and onto Neville. It was long and sharp, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs. Hermione stared at in amazement.

“Now we’re talking, Neville,” she said. “Pick up your fancy sword and let’s go.” She turned and started running towards the main Chamber again. < I’m coming, Me! >

Harry was pelting rocks and animal skulls around the Chamber, hoping to confuse the Basilisk. The Basilisk was still swaying as Fawkes kept circling its head, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose, blood continuing to drip from its ruined eyes. Harry continued to duck and weave around the snake as it swept its massive body around the Chamber. Suddenly, the massive head was diving towards him and he could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, lined with fangs longer than his arm, glittering with venom. He threw himself out of the way, the fangs just missing him.

Hermione hurtled onto the scene and started making a lot of noise. _“Over here, you great ugly thing. Salazar would hate you.”_

As the snake weaved towards her, Harry started shouting loudly at it as well, watching the massive head swivel back his way, confused, its giant maw still open, the fangs dripping venom.

 _“INCENDIO!”_ screamed Hermione, pointing her wand at the vulnerable wounds on the snake’s head. Bright fire poured out of her wand and started to burn the snake. Its furious screech echoed viciously, and it lunged towards Hermione who flung herself out of the way.

Getting the hang of it now, Harry started screeching again, aiming a loud _“Bombarda!”_ at the head, hoping to disorient it further.

The Basilisk reared again, its thick body climbing high into the Chamber, and lunged again towards Harry. Before he could react, Neville ran past him yelling incoherently, holding aloft a bright silver sword. The Basilisk bared its fangs and Harry and Hermione watched – in slow motion it felt – as Neville drove the hilt of the sword right through the roof of the serpent’s mouth and out through the top of the skull.

Blood erupted out of the fatal wound, spattering the Chamber, as the Basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor. Harry watched as it stopped moving, as the stillness of death took over its magnificent form.

“Neville!” Hermione screamed, dashing forward as Neville collapsed. Harry hurried over and saw the fang sunk deep into Neville’s arm. He reached over and yanked it out, Neville moaning in pain, rapidly losing his colour.

“No … Neville,” Hermione sobbed.

Riddle’s laughter echoed throughout the chamber. “This matters not. I don’t need a Basilisk to defeat you. In fact, I prefer it this way.” He held out his wand in a duelling stance. “Just me and you.”

Hermione let out a primal screech, pulling her arm back and throwing her knife dead centre at Riddle. Her aim was true, but they watched as her knife sailed right through his misty form.

There was a scarlet streak as Fawkes swooped over them and landed beside Neville, letting out a spine-tingling mournful cry.

< He’s a ghost, Mi, > Harry said. < How do you kill a ghost? >

< He’s not a ghost, > she replied, taking a duelling stance, casting one last look at Neville.

< A revenant, a wraith, a shade, > Harry said, also taking the stance.

Hermione whirled around to look at Harry, as the final piece fell into the puzzle, the bond singing. < Not a shade, > she said, her eyes going wide. < **A soul!** >

< A what? > Harry said.

< He told us, Me. He told us that Ginny fed him her soul. That’s what he is. He’s not a person or a ghost or a shade. He’s a soul, that’s how he has memory, and Ginny gave him enough life for him to leave the diary. >

< He’s stealing her soul? > Harry said, aghast.

< I think so, > Hermione said. < And when he’s complete, Ginny will be dead, but he’ll have a physical body. >

< We can’t wait for that, Mi, > Harry said. < We can’t just let Ginny die. >

Riddle’s voice interrupted them suddenly. “Get away, bird! I said, get away!” He pointed the wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

Hermione shrieked as Neville sat up, the colour slowly returning to his face, still covered in the blood of the Basilisk.

“Phoenix tears …” Riddle said quietly, staring at Neville’s arm. “Of course … healing powers.”

“Life and death,” Hermione whispered.

Harry looked at her, the bond humming louder and louder between them. “Life and death,” he repeated louder.

< Life and death, Me Me. Phoenix tears and basilisk venom. He’s not a ghost, he’s a soul, > Hermione said triumphantly.

Harry nodded at her.

She whirled back around to Riddle and smiled sweetly at him. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Confusion swept across his face temporarily before he snarled. “No, but you will be sorry.”

“Somehow,” she said, tilting her head and laughing at him, “I don’t think I will be. Because this is number three.”

Harry seized the Basilisk fang on the floor next to Neville and dived towards where Ginny was lying at the base of the statue. In one fluid motion, he plunged it straight into the heart of the diary.

There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry’s hands, flooding the floor. Riddle screamed loudly, writhing and twisting, holes of light punched through him. Harry twisted the fang and watched as more light ate away the cursed sight. Riddle gave one last scream and then … nothing. He was gone.


	24. Mud and Blood and Ink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They survived !!!! 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics
> 
> :) :) :)

“We did it,” Hermione whispered, still feeling like her heart was about to pound out of her chest. “We did it,” she repeated louder, a laugh escaping her.

Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up. His head was spinning, his skin felt electrified. He trudged over to Neville and offered him a hand up. “Nice to see you in the land of the living, oh Basilisk Slayer,” he said.

“I had no idea what I was doing,” Neville numbly.

“Yeah, well, that’s the secret Nev. We don’t know what we’re doing either,” Hermione said, smiling broadly at him. “I’m so proud of us!”

Neville stared up at the dead Basilisk, the sword still stabbed upwards through its mouth, glinting in the eerie light of the chamber. He tentatively reached up and pulled the sword back out of the mouth.

“You can probably rule England now,” Hermione joked.

Then came a faint moan from the end of the Chamber as Ginny stirred. They all hurried towards her as she sat up. She looked at them blankly for several seconds. All of them were covered in dirt and grime and dark blood, and Harry’s hands were stained with ink. Realisation crashed over Ginny and she drew a great, shuddering gasp and promptly burst into tears.

Harry quietly rolled his eyes as Hermione and Neville took a tiny step away from the tears. He reached out tentatively to the diminutive girl who continued to sob.

“Oh, Harry – It was me!” she choked out. “I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to – R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over – and –“ She glanced around the Chamber in horror. “W-where’s Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary – oh, and Neville – Neville, I’m so s-s-sorry!”

“It’s all going to be okay,” Harry said in a soothing voice. He held up the ruined diary. “Riddle’s dead. He’s gone! Neville killed the Basilisk and we killed Riddle!” He glanced up at Hermione and Neville and gave them a pointed look. < Feel free to open your mouth. >

Neville held out his hand to Ginny. “C’mon, Ginny, let’s get out of here.”

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept, as Neville helped her awkwardly to her feet. “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since my biggest brother Bill came and n-now I’ll have to leave and – w-what’ll my parents say?”

“You’re not going to be expelled,” Hermione said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Ginny looked up at Hermione, her eyes huge. “How did you guys even get down here?”

“Well, we speak Parseltongue,” Hermione shrugged.

Ginny looked around at the devastation around the Chamber, more tears welling up in her eyes. “I hurt so many people.”

“You didn’t,” Hermione said. “That ugly motherfucker Voldemort did.”

“V-V-Voldemort?” Ginny stuttered, looking around in fresh horror.

< You can stop talking now, > Harry said. “Ginny, Tom Riddle is Voldemort, the sixteen-year-old version of him. He – well, there’s no easy way to say this. He tried to eat your soul in order to come back. But he’s gone now. And you should be proud of yourself. You fought him off! Do you have any idea how remarkable that is?”

“And if you hadn’t done that, we never would have found the Diary, and figured out what was happening,” Hermione said.

“I can’t believe you guys came to rescue me,” Ginny said.

“It’s kind of their whole thing,” Neville said. “They did it for me last year when – when V-Voldemort kidnapped me.”

“Neville, if you get kidnapped again by Voldemort next year, I’m gonna be really fucking pissed,” Hermione said.

“Well, heroic people, let’s get the hell out of here,” Harry said, swinging his arm around Hermione.

Hermione groaned loudly. “We’ve still gotta get through that rock wall I accidentally created.”

-/-

Hermione groaned even louder when they arrived at the solid wall of broken rock.

“We defeated Voldemort and the Basilisk,” Harry said, holding his head high. “We will not be defeated by some rocks. We all know the Levitation charm; we just need to make a hole big enough at near the top for us to get through.”

“Well, thank you, fearless leader,” Hermione jibed.

“I don’t have a wand,” Neville said.

“What?” Hermione said.

“Riddle took it and it kinda … burnt up with him. Gran’s gonna kill me, that was my Dad’s old wand,” Neville said miserably.

“Well, thank god we got you that thing from Ollivanders then,” Hermione said. “Also, I’ll physically fight your gran. You just slayed the Basilisk. She’ll be damn proud, or else.”

“The only thing we’re going to be fighting is this rock wall!” Harry exclaimed. “Neville, you’ve got hands. Now, let’s get to work, team.” He promptly turned back to the wall and started casting. He’d removed a few rocks when Ginny made a noise of dismay.

Harry turned to her as she held out her wand, an anxious look on her face. “I’ve tried but I can’t get the spell to work. It’s worked for me before,” she said.

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Try Lumos,” she said.

Ginny screwed up her face and cast the spell. The end of her wand let out a low light for a second before it sputtered out.

“It’s fine,” Hermione said. “Voldemort tried to eat your soul, you’re just magically exhausted. Sit down, Ginny. We’ll clear the wall.”

< Fuck, we need to work on your bedside manner, > Harry said, as Ginny started weeping again. “The same thing happened to us last year, Ginny, after we fought Voldemort. It took a few days and we were back to normal. Don’t worry about it, okay. I promise it’ll be alright.”

< That’s basically what I said, > Hermione said, turning back to the wall.

Before long there was a sizeable gap in the rock fall, large enough for them to squeeze through one at a time. Harry went first, followed by Neville and Ginny, with Hermione bringing up the rear. They’d just gotten through when Fawkes swooped through the hole and perched on Neville’s shoulder.

“Alright, not far to go n-“

Ginny screamed loudly, cutting Harry off. Harry and Hermione jerked around, furiously looking for the danger.

“What? What is it?” Harry said.

Ginny pointed. It was Lockhart. He was sitting there, humming placidly to himself, but he jumped up when he saw them approaching.

He smiled good-naturedly down at them all. “Hello!” he said. “Odd sort of place, this, isn’t it? Do you live here?”

“What?” Neville said, staring at the Defence professor.

“My name’s Gilderoy,” he said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hermione started laughing loudly. < My shield must have made his memory curse bounce back on him, > she said, tears coming to her eyes as she took in the befuddled professor.

“Right,” Harry said. “He’s been hit by his own Memory Curse. Hello, Gilderoy. Just … come with us.” Neville and Ginny stared in utter confusion. “We’ll explain later,” Harry said as they continued towards the mouth of the pipe.

The odd group stared up the mouth of the dark pipe.

“What now, fearless leader?” Hermione said.

“I suppose I fly us up, one person at a time,” Harry replied. Hermione reached in to find his broom but Fawkes the phoenix swooped in front of her and fluttered in front of them, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers.

“Of course!” Hermione said. “Phoenixes can carry immensely heavy loads. He can carry us all up.” She turned quickly to the others. “We’ve got to hold on to each other. Harry, you take Fawkes’ and then Ginny and then Neville, then me, and … ugh, I suppose I’ll hold Lockhart too.”

Harry shoved the diary into Hermione’s bag while Neville tucked the sword into his belt and jammed the Sorting Hat onto Ginny’s head and then Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes’ strangely hot tail feathers.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through his whole body and next second, with a whoosh, they were flying upwards through the pipe. Lockhart kept loudly shouting, “Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!” as they shot through the air.

< Just let me drop him, > Hermione said, as the chill air whipped through her hair. Before Harry could reply, they shot out into Myrtle’s bathroom, all hitting the wet floor with a thump, as Fawkes’ kept flying onwards.

Hermione picked herself up and whispered _“Close”_ at the open pipe as Myrtle goggled at them.

“You’re alive,” Myrtle said blankly, looking at Harry.

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Harry replied, trying in vain to remove some of the grime coating him.

“Oh well … I’d just been thinking. If you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet,” said Myrtle, blushing silver.

Harry smiled grimly as Hermione laughed hysterically over the bond. “Thanks Myrtle, but we really must be going.”


	25. Telling the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearly at the end of this story now!!!  
> I've had such a fun time writing it, so I hope y'all have enjoyed reading it. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >
> 
> Sound off in the comments, I love to hear your thoughts :) :)

< Probably can’t just go back to the dormitory for a hot shower, hey? > Harry said as they trudged through the empty corridors.

< I’d kill another Basilisk for a hot shower, > Hermione said. < But we probably need to tell someone that we’re all alive. >

They continued to trudge through the corridors until Harry stopped before the ugly stone gargoyle. < Hope the password hasn’t changed, > he said. “Sherbet lemon!”

Thankfully, the gargoyle sprang to life, and Harry and Hermione ushered everyone onto the stone steps as they spiralled upwards. Moments later, they found themselves outside Professor Dumbledore’s office. Hermione made a face before knocking and then pushed the door open.

For a moment, there was silence as Harry, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Lockhart stood wearily in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and blood and ink. Then there was a loud scream.

“GINNY!” It was Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting crying in the office near the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

A stern, older looking lady, with a vulture on her head followed them, looking down severely on the party. Without saying a word, she swept Neville into a tight hug.

Harry and Hermione stood there awkwardly, looking into the office. Professor Dumbledore was leaning behind his desk beaming, with Fawkes sitting on his shoulder, and next to him was Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. McGonagall was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Snape looked as inscrutable as ever.

“Come in everyone,” Dumbledore called over Mrs Weasley’s sobs. “Come in and take a seat. We are all anxious to hear what has happened.”

“I, for one, cannot wait to hear what happened,” Snape said, looking threateningly at Harry and Hermione, “given that my last instructions were to remain in the library.”

“Yeah, well, you also said that you’d come back and explain what was going on,” Hermione shot back before she could stop herself.

“I did,” he snapped. “You were asleep, so I thought I would let you sleep. Rest assured, I shall not make that mistake again.”

“Perhaps,” McGonagall said, clearing her throat, “you could tell us why you left the library and what happened after that.”

“We left the library to speak with Hagrid,” Harry said. < Tell the story with me? > he said to Hermione. < And butt in if I’m missing something or if there’s something you don’t want me to say. > She nodded back over the bond.

“We knew that he’d been accused of opening the Chamber last time and wanted to know what had happened. If he knew what the monster in the Chamber actually was,” Harry said. “Unfortunately, well – err” He threw a glance towards Dumbledore before soldiering on. “Well, he got arrested and taken away, but he told us to follow the spiders.”

“Follow the spiders?” McGonagall said incredulously.

“Spiders have been fleeing Hogwarts all year,” Hermione said. “We followed them into the darkest part of the Forbidden Forest.”

“There’s a … colony of gigantic spiders in the Forest,” Harry said. “We spoke with their leader, Aragog, who’s a friend of Hagrid’s. He refused to tell us what the monster was, said it was the spiders’ mortal enemy. But he told us that a girl had died in the bathroom.” Harry paused for a moment. < I might skip over the part where they tried to eat us. >

“We came back to the library to keep researching, to see if we could figure out what was in the Chamber. We’d realised it had to be a snake, that’s why we could hear it talking. And then I found the right book,” Hermione said. “The monster was a Basilisk.”

“And I realised that the girl who had died in the bathroom all those years ago was Moaning Myrtle. We were coming to tell you when we found out that Neville and Ginny had been taken into the Chamber.”

“We overheard you saying that Lockhart knew where the Chamber was, so we went to him, took him with us,” Hermione said. “We found the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Lockhart tried to attack us, tried to curse us and remove our memories. He’s a liar and a fraud, he’s been stealing his stories all this time,” Harry said. “His spell backfired and wiped his own memory. He has no idea who he is now.” There were gasps echoed around the office as everyone turned to peer at Lockhart who smiled dumbly at everyone from the corner of the room. Harry continued on, “We went into the Chamber and found Neville and Ginny. Neville was unconscious but Ginny … she was pale and cold, like she was nearly dead. That’s when he appeared … “

Harry glanced at Hermione at this stage who nodded briefly back at him.

“This name will likely only mean something to one of you,” Hermione said, “but the person who appeared was Tom Riddle.” 

Dumbledore leaned forward, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles. “I’m quite curious as to how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant young Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.”

< Poor Albania, > Hermione muttered.

“W-what’s that?” said Mr Weasley in a stunned voice. “You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny’s not … Ginny hasn’t been … has she?”

“It was this diary,” Hermione said, pulling it out of her bag.

Dumbledore took it from her and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and stained pages. “Brilliant,” he said softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered. “Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school … travelled far and wide … sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”

“But Ginny,” said Mrs Weasley, “what’s our Ginny got to do with – with – him?”

“She had his diary, Mrs Weasley,” Hermione said, as Ginny started sobbing again. “She’d been writing in it.”

“And Tom Riddle had been writing back,” Harry continued.

“Ginny!” said Mr Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that.”

“I d-didn’t know,” sobbed Ginny. “I found it inside my cauldron with all the other books Mum got me. I thought it was a present ...”

“It’s Dark Magic. Hermione’s the one who figured it out though,” Harry said.

All eyes turned back to Hermione. “He told us; he certainly talked for long enough to allow me to figure it out, but it was what he said. He told us that he preserved his sixteen-year-old self in the diary. And then he said that Ginny poured out her soul to him, that he grew stronger because of it, that Ginny poured so much of her life into the diary that he was able to leave the diary and become solid. That’s why she seemed so cold and lifeless down there – he was eating her soul. Harry helped me figure it out, he asked if ghosts can possess people, but I know they can’t. So he wasn’t a ghost or a revenant or a shade. I don’t truly understand the magic, but once I figured that much out, I knew how to kill him.”

There was utter silence at Hermione’s pronouncement though Dumbledore’s eyes grew wide at her words. There was nothing but the sound of the fire cracking for a minute until:

“How does my grandson figure into this?” asked the stern older lady, who could only be Lady Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother.

“Neville realised there was something wrong with Ginny and tried to help her, so he got kidnapped and dragged down to the Chamber as well,” Harry said.

“He’s a hero,” Hermione said loudly. “He slayed the Basilisk. Fawkes appeared to us. He cried on Neville which woke him up.”

Neville flushed bright red as all eyes turned to him. He nervously pulled the sword out and showed it off to everyone in the room.

“Riddle set the Basilisk onto us and Neville killed it with the Sword. He pulled it out of the Sorting Hat,” Hermione said proudly.

McGonagall looked so proud that she might burst. “Do you know what that sword is?” she asked weakly. “That’s the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. It is said that only a true Gryffindor can pull the Sword out of the Hat.”

“Sorry,” said Mr Weasley, “but how did you kill this … Riddle then?”

“With the fang of the dead Basilisk,” Harry said. “It’s the deadliest venom in the world.”

“This is a most wondrous tale,” Dumbledore said, surveying the group. “On behalf of the whole school, I can only thank you for what each of you have done. You will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and – let me see – yes, 100 points to Ginny, and 200 points apiece to Harry, Hermione, and Neville. You are all a credit to your Houses. Now, Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing. This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will, of course, be no punishment. Older and far wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort. Mr Longbottom should also attend the hospital wing. Slaying a Basilisk is no easy feat; Madam Pomfrey will want to check you over. She’s been hard at work – she’s been giving out the Restoration potion!”

“So they’re all OK?” Harry asked brightly.

“There has been no lasting harm done,” said Dumbledore.

Ginny and Neville left with their families, all looking deeply shaken. Lady Longbottom nodded her head at the twins on her way out.

“You know, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully, “I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens? But before that, I must ask you to take Gilderoy to the hospital wing as well.” McGonagall nodded crisply and departed, dragging Lockhart behind her.

That left Dumbledore, Snape, and the twins who all quietly observed each other.

“First of all, Harry and Hermione, I want to thank you,” said Dumbledore. “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.” He stroked the phoenix which had fluttered down onto his knee.

< He might want to raise his standards, > Hermione remarked. < We literally called him an old goat and said he hadn’t been beaten by babies. >

< Ugh, we’re not loyal to this old coot, > Harry said in disgust. < I can’t believe he’s thanking us for that. >

Harry forced his face into an odd smile.

“And so you met Tom Riddle,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully. “I imagine he was most interested in you both …”

“He was very interested to know how we had defeated him twice before,” Harry said. “Said he thought there must be something special about us, because we appeared to be so similar to him.”

“He was disappointed to find out there’s nothing special about us,” Hermione said wryly. “But it does raise the question again. Why does he want to kill us? We asked you last year and you would not answer. Will you answer this year?”

“I will not,” Dumbledore replied softly. “You are not ready yet and there is still much we do not know.”

Hermione carefully kept her face very blank, but the bond was humming dangerously.

“I am curious as to how you figured out all that you did about the Diary,” Dumbledore continued. “It would be of great use to me if you could tell me more about that.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, distracted away from her anger by the question. “Harry said that he thought ghosts couldn’t possess people, when Riddle was talking about controlling Ginny. I’d done some research into ghosts and other such things, just out of curiosity. I know they are just imprints of souls, they don’t have souls themselves, and that they can’t really do much, don’t have control over the physical world. This Riddle – he looked like some kind of shade or ghost – but he could hold a wand, he could control the world around him, even cast magic. And he said ‘Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted … I grew far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her.’ He told us he’d preserved his sixteen-year-old self in the diary, and he told us he poured his soul into Ginny, enough for him to be able to start draining her of life, to start stealing or eating or taking her soul. I’ve not really read much into this stuff, but it just clicked all of a sudden. That somehow, by some Dark Magic … I don’t know, it just made sense.”

Dumbledore surveyed her with a sombre expression on his face. “I see you truly are the Brightest Witch of your year. Why the Basilisk fang?”

Harry wet his lips nervously before clearing his throat. “We actually encountered the Diary earlier in the year. We’d been trying to solve the mystery, to prove that we weren’t the ones doing it. Ginny, at one stage, fought off Riddle and got rid of the Diary and we found it. In trying to discover how it worked, we discovered it was near-impossible to destroy. We couldn’t rip the pages, it resisted being lit on fire. We realised … well, we didn’t say this earlier, but in slaying the Basilisk, Neville was impaled by one of its fangs and nearly died. Fawkes cried on him again and saved his life. And we realised that both life and death were there in the Chamber with us. The Basilisk was so powerful that it could harm even a ghost so we knew it would be able to harm the Diary,” Harry said.

“Hogwarts truly does owe you a great debt,” Dumbledore said. “What you need now is some food and sleep. I suggest you prepare for the Feast. I must write to Azkaban – we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet too. We’ll be needing a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we do seem to run through them.”

Harry and Hermione silently got up and crossed to the door. Harry had just reached for the handle when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall.

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering under his arm, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby.

Hermione stared incredulously at the elf while Mr Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room.

“So!” said Lucius Malfoy, his cold eyes fixed on Dumbledore. “You’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts.”

“Well, I have no doubt the governors thought it best in the beginning,” said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, “but when they heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter and Lady Longbottom’s grandson had been killed, they wanted me back here immediately. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. I’m terribly sorry they didn’t see fit to inform you of their decision.”

Mr Malfoy’s eyes were slits of fury. “So – have you stopped the attacks yet? Have you caught the culprit?”

“We have,” said Dumbledore, with a smile. Harry and Hermione’s heads swivelled back and forth between the pair.

“Well?” said Mr Malfoy sharply. “Who is it?”

“The same person as last time, Lucius,” said Dumbledore. “But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.” He held up the small black book with the large hole through the centre, watching Mr Malfoy closely. Hermione flicked her eyes furiously between Malfoy, Dumbledore, and the diary, something Ginny had said niggling in her mind.

Harry, however, was now watching Dobby. The elf was doing something very odd. His great eyes fixed meaningfully on Harry, he kept pointing at the diary, then at Mr Malfoy, and then hitting himself hard on the head with his fist.

It clicked for the twins at the same time and they gasped loudly, then promptly shut their mouths as everyone in the room turned to them.

“I see …” said Mr Malfoy, slowly turning back to Dumbledore.

“A clever plan,” said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr Malfoy straight in the eye. “Because if Harry and Hermione here hadn’t discovered this plot, then Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. I can only imagine the political ramifications of a member of one of our most prominent pure-blood families being blamed for something like this.”

“Very fortunate,” Mr Malfoy said stiffly. “How lucky we are to have the Twins-Who-Lived here.” He promptly turned on his heel and marched out of the door, Dobby the elf hurrying after him.

< I think he might be one of those blood supremacists, > Harry said glumly.

< Well, I’m gonna change his son’s mind, > Hermione said stoutly.

< We should probably try and save Dobby as well, > Harry said. < I know he tried to kill me, but … well, his heart was in the right place. >

“I will escort you back to the Common Room now,” Snape said. “Hopefully we can avoid anything life-threatening on the way.”

< I honestly wouldn’t hold your breath, > Hermione said. < This year was even less fun than last year. Gigantic spiders AND snakes, and then Voldemort AGAIN? >

< Just think, summer holidays with nothing but us and our little harmless snakes, > Harry said, as they marched down the staircase.

“I did come back for you,” Snape said. “I know you may find that hard to believe.”

“What happened when you explained about the attack to the House?” Harry asked nervously.

“There was an initial uproar, as I expected. Most of the House truly believed you were the Heirs. Once I dealt with that, I then had to deal with both Miss Parkinson and Miss Greengrass’ families,” Snape said. “It was very late by the time I made it to the library. I apologise for making you think that I would not keep my word.”

Hermione was silent. Harry could feel her furiously thinking, the bond sparking as her mind churned through different ideas, though he sensed her mind was miles away.

“It’s fine, sir,” Harry said simply.

“It is not fine!” Snape seethed. “Have you no survival instinct at all? Following spiders into the Forbidden Forest? Battling Basilisks with nothing but words? Baiting the Dark Lord himself? Were you really sorted into my House?”

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Slytherin House has allowed itself to sink into darkness and decay, allowed itself to follow false gods. The House has forgotten what it truly stands for. We really were sorted into your House because we are clever and resourceful, determined and confident, because we do what needs to be done regardless of the rules. Our survival instinct is stronger than anyone else in the House. You mistake our actions for blind bravery, sir. We did our duty to the memory of Salazar Slytherin.”

Professor Snape appeared briefly taken aback by Hermione’s words before his face hardened. “Despite your words, you still foolishly chose to do this alone, instead of alerting a teacher,” he said.

Hermione snorted. “We alerted a teacher about the danger that Voldemort posed to the stone last year – we were not believed. Life has continued to teach us over and over that we only have each other.”

They had arrived at the dungeons, Hermione and Snape now furiously glaring at each other. Harry could still hear her thoughts churning loudly.

“Well, thank you for escorting us back to the Common Room,” he said. “We’ll – we’ll be going now.” He dragged Hermione towards the entrance as Snape stalked away, his robes billowing out behind him. < What’s going through your mind, Mi Mi? >

< I meant what I said. Our House has fallen into decay, all because of Voldemort. We need to fix that, > she said.

< Skip to the part where you tell me your plan and I follow it, fearless leader, > Harry said.

Hermione laughed gently. < I meant that down in the Chamber as well, you know. You’re a natural leader, Me Me. People would follow you anywhere. You’re the one who said it, I’m just the brains. >

< No, Mi heart, you are everything in the whole world to me, > Harry said, hugging her closely. < Now, what’s your plan? >


	26. Creating Myths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics. 
> 
> :) :)

It was like Halloween all over again as they entered the Common Room. It was packed but everyone fell silent and turned to look at them. Hermione realised how utterly filthy they must look. Harry was still in Quidditch uniform, not that you could tell, he was so covered in blood and muck and ink. She shuddered to think what her hair looked like, before straightening her shoulders and attempting to look strong.

“I think we need another House Meeting,” said Belladonna, looking around at everyone in the room.

“I agree,” Hermione said. _“Are you ready, Me? This is either gonna work a treat or crash and burn horribly.”_

_“Can’t be worse than those fucking spiders,”_ he said.

_“Echidna, Typhon,”_ Hermione called out loudly, watching as some of the students shuddered at her hissing. She waited silently as their snakes slowly made their way out of the dormitories and slithered over to them.

_“Master Harry,”_ Ty chirped, coiling up around his neck. _“You smell terrible.”_

_“It’s a long story, baby,”_ he replied.

Hermione took her place in front of the fire, the light illuminating her outline, Echidna coiled up on her shoulder, looking out at the crowd. Harry stood beside her, quietly whispering instructions to his snake.

“We understand that many of you are angry at the moment,” Hermione begun, her voice carrying clearly through the room. “That you think we have betrayed our House and attacked two of our own. This is false and we have come to tell you the truth.”

She took a deep breath in. “We **are** the Heirs of Slytherin, but not in the way you might think. We know the legend, but this story begins fifty years ago, when the Chamber of Secrets was last opened. Not many know what really happened all those years ago, but we do. Just over fifty years ago, a boy by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle came to Hogwarts. He was a Half-blood who was sorted into Slytherin, and like us, he was a Parseltongue. He misunderstood our great Founder’s mission when he opened the Chamber. He murdered an innocent Muggleborn girl in a bathroom. Do you think this is what our Founder wanted? Do you think he searched **desperately** through the veil for his murdered daughter Valentina, only for his Heirs to turn around and murder innocents in his name?”

“Tom Riddle framed another for his crimes all those years ago, and he finished his schooling and went out into the world. He travelled far and wide in this time, sank so deeply into the most perverted of magics, underwent so many dangerous magical transformations that when he resurfaced years later, he was so unrecognisable that no-one knew he was Tom Riddle, the clever and handsome Head Boy of Hogwarts. He called himself a different name, one that every single person in this room will have heard. He called himself Lord Voldemort.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as Hermione uttered the name, faces paled as people glanced around at each other. 

“I’m sure people know this part of the story, but I am here to tell you that Lord Voldemort is a liar and a fraud, who played on the blood tensions in our country in order to wreak havoc, torture, and murder for his own pleasure. He murdered our parents in cold blood and then he tried to murder us. But he failed, because we are Children of Fate, and the **true** Heirs of Slytherin.”

“We faced Voldemort for a third time today,” Harry said. “He left a remnant of himself behind, a memory, and opened the Chamber of Secrets again in the hope of killing us. He attacked Pansy and Daphne because he knew it would turn you against us. He cares not for your blood or your family or your friends or your dreams. He cares only for death and destruction.”

“We went down to the Chamber of Secrets to face him today, to rescue two Purebloods that he had taken and planned to murder. He unleashed the Basilisk – the monster within the Chamber - but it was defeated. The soul of Salazar Slytherin is built into the Chamber, his face carved into the very walls. Salazar graced us with his magic today and allowed us to defeat Voldemort for the third time. He reached out from beyond the Veil with a message,” Hermione cried. “Slytherin House has allowed itself to sink into darkness and decay, allowed itself to worship and follow false gods. We have forgotten what we truly stand for and Voldemort has left a stain on the soul of our House that must be removed. I fear for the very fabric of magic if we do not.”

On cue, Typhon started growing to enormous size, slipping off Harry’s shoulder. Rearing up over the seated crowd, he started hissing, flaring out his feathery scales. Harry started speaking as Typhon continued to grow. _“We are the Heirs of Slytherin. We carry his Gift.”_

_“We are true-born Speakers,”_ Hermione said, before switching back to English. “We will continue to fight for innocent people, as is our duty to the memory of Salazar Slytherin. I only hope those who are **truly** worthy of being in his House will follow.”


	27. Final Escapades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter !!!!  
> I've had so much fun writing this story, and already have big plans for Third Year.  
> I hope everyone has enjoyed reading along. 
> 
> Mind speak is denoted by < xx >  
> Parseltongue is denoted by italics 
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has left comments or kudos on this story, I cherish them so much :)  
> See you all for the next story !!

The Feast was a raucous affair, lasting well past midnight. Dumbledore had loudly announced what had occurred (albeit a fairly watered-down version) and there was loud applause when he revealed that Neville, Harry, and Hermione would be receiving Special Service Awards. There were even louder cheers when it was discovered that Harry and Hermione’s four hundred points had secured the House Cup for Slytherin again. Professor McGonagall also announced that all exams had been cancelled as a school treat. And just when Harry thought they couldn’t cheer any louder, Dumbledore announced that Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. The noise from that celebration near about lifted the roof off.

Everyone who had been Petrified arrived halfway through the Feast to further loud applause. Pansy and Daphne flung themselves at the Twins, both of them crying. Several Hufflepuffs came up to them at various points; they alternated on apologising for suspecting them, or profusely explaining that they had never suspected them. Harry went to visit Colin Creevey, with a hug and a firm warning to never photograph them again.

Hagrid arrived back the next day. Gritting their teeth, Harry and Hermione took Kid and Ty and went to visit him, arguing between themselves the whole way there. Harry was all for open forgiveness as all had ended well while Hermione wanted to temporarily murder him for sending them into the nest of spiders. Harry won the argument with a promise of an even better knife as a present.

Hagrid was thrilled to meet Kid and Ty, especially when they showed off their ability to grow and shrink. After watching them joyfully for a while, he turned to the twins with a sad look on his face. “I can’ thank yers enough for what yers did,” he said. “I’d still be in tha’ awful place if it weren’ for yers.”

“Anything for you, Hagrid. We’re just sorry that you were wrongly accused all those years ago,” Harry said.

The rest of the summer term passed quickly. Slytherin House continued to treat Harry and Hermione with deference. They were unsure what impact their speech had made on the House but figured only time would tell. In the meantime, they would keep acting as the Heirs and keep attempting to fix the rot within their House.

-/-

The final day came, and Harry and Hermione were walking through the grounds towards the carriages, Kid and Ty sitting on their shoulders. Now that the whole school knew they could speak Parseltongue, their sleepy snakes were occasionally spending some time out in the open. They were nearly at the Gate when they were accosted by Professor Snape.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten what you promised earlier in the year,” he said, looking down at the pair.

“Oh, wow, it must have slipped my mind, amongst all the times we nearly died this year,” Hermione said, letting out a high-pitched giggle. < I really actually did hope they’d forget, > she muttered.

“Playing dumb doesn’t work on me,” Snape said, “and it’s an insult to your vast intelligence. I will be waiting for you on the platform when you get off the Hogwarts Express, to accompany you home. I will make sure that the home you are returning to is one that you deserve.”

< Well, he also thought we deserved that detention with Lockhart, > Harry said dryly. “We look forward to it, Professor,” he said politely, walking past him towards the carriages.

< Unless he’s gonna transplant Uncle Vernon’s personality, I can’t see the situation improving in any way, > Hermione said.

< Well, we’ve got the whole train trip to come up with a plan, > Harry said.

< Me Me, > Hermione said fondly. < I already have a plan. >

-/-

They tucked themselves into their favourite compartment and settled back with a book for what they hoped would be a relaxing train journey home. Unfortunately for them, people had other ideas.

Neville came and visited them first. He seemed to have grown and he was standing with his shoulders thrown back for once. “You were right, Hermione,” he said.

“I usually am,” she shot back, grinning, “but what about this time?”

“Gran was really proud of me. She’s never said that to me before. She wasn’t even mad about Dad’s old wand, said losing it while battling You-Know-Who was something to be proud of. She’s taking me to get a new wand over the holidays.”

“Call him Voldemort, Nev, or even Riddle given how ridiculously stupid that name is. I can’t believe he made an anagram of his name,” Hermione said. “Like talk about real loser hours.”

“Yeah, that’s Voldemort; murderer, psychopath, loser,” Harry said.

“Anyway, I’m hoping we’ll be able to see each other over the holidays,” Neville offered, a trace of nervousness entering his voice again.

< Fuck, > Hermione said. < If we manage to escape Snape again, we’re probably going to have to hide the whole holidays again. >

Harry furrowed his brow. < Even if we get caught, how can they keep us at the Dursleys? Armed guards? That’s the only way. >

< Should we tell Neville? > Hermione said.

< Maybe we tell him over the holidays. We can meet up at Diagon Alley at some point, > Harry said.

“We’d love to hang out, Neville,” Hermione said. “Send us an owl … ooh, we should get an owl too!”

Ginny and the Weasley twins visited next.

“I see you succeeded in driving Lockhart from the school,” Fred said.

“What can I say?” Hermione beamed. “Mess with me and you’re gonna lose. And may I say that you’re No-Locks-Hart posters were inspired.”

“Thank you for rescuing our sister,” George said softly.

“We’re just glad you’re okay, Ginny,” Harry said, smiling at her as she eyed off their pet snakes curiously. 

“Our – err – well, our m-mother wants you to visit us over the holidays, so she can thank you properly,” Ginner said nervously.

< Fucking hell, > Hermione said.

“Sounds great,” Harry grinned. “Send us an owl!”

< That does not sound great, > Hermione screeched as they left. < Ron Weasley lives there! >

< What was I supposed to say? Fuck off, we don’t like you? > Harry said. < You like the twins and we just rescued their sister. Can’t exactly turn around now and be like ‘sorry, if we’d known you were going to invite us places then we wouldn’t have saved you’, now can we? >

< We could, > Hermione said. < I’ll be saving people in a fucking disguise next time if they’re going to invite us places. >

< Mi Mi, > Harry said. < You can’t change the world like you want to and remain hidden. >

Hermione scowled furiously at him just as there was another knock on the compartment door. Pansy and Daphne stuck their heads in, and Harry waved them in.

< Just warning you, Mi, > Harry said. < They might want to hang out with us too. >

“How are you feeling, Daph, Pans?” Hermione asked.

“Well, infuriated that we got Petrified, incredibly glad that we didn’t die,” Pansy said.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Hermione said. “We figured out why everyone else got Petrified but we weren’t sure about you guys.”

“What do you mean?” Pansy said.

“Well, direct eye contact with a Basilisk kills," Hermione expained. "Justin saw it through the ghost, Colin saw it through his camera." 

“Oh,” Pansy said. “My mirror. We were checking our hair before the Quidditch match.”

“That mirror saved your life,” Harry said.

“Well, I’ve always said that good fashion is life-changing. I’ll have to add in life-saving now,” Pansy said, flicking her hair.

“Were you telling the truth?” Daphne said. “Was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really controlling the Basilisk?”

“He was,” Hermione replied.

“But the one who opens the Chamber is supposed to purge people who aren’t worthy of studying magic,” Daphne cried, chewing on her lip.

“That’s what they’re supposed to do, Daphne,” Hermione said firmly. “They’re supposed to honour the memory of Valentina and use the Chamber to protect the school from those unworthy, those who are dangerous. But Voldemort doesn’t care for our legends, for our stories. Doesn’t care for our duty to magic. He used it for his own gain.”

“Going against magic like that has a price,” Harry said. “You should see his current state. An ugly shade forced to inhabit the body of rats to survive.”

“And we will ensure that he continues to pay the price,” Hermione continued. “You are worthy, Daphne. That’s why magic protected you and Pansy, why magic protected all those who Voldemort tried to harm this year.”

“Even – even though Justin is Muggleborn?” Daphne said cautiously.

“Beckett Byrde was Muggleborn, and our Lady Valentina loved him with her whole heart. We forget the other half of that story, you know. Beckett was murdered that day as well, for the crime of loving his beautiful Pureblood Lady. So yes, magic protected Justin as well,” Hermione said fiercely. “And as the Heirs, we will continue to protect those that are worthy of magic.”

Hermione slumped in her seat as they left. < Don’t let anyone else in, > she said.

“Hello,” Draco said, entering their compartment.

< We saved the whole school, > Hermione whinged. < Why are we being punished? >

< We have a bigger problem than that, > Harry said. “Hello, Draco,” he said quickly. < We know that Draco’s father gave Ginny that fucking Diary in the first place. >

< Yes, and we’ve been ignoring that piece of information up until now, > Hermione said. < We have no way of proving it, we don’t even really know why he did it, beyond just wanting to humiliate the Weasley family. Seems like there are fucking easier ways to humiliate people. His own son could have been killed by the Basilisk. >

< He probably thought Draco was safe because he’s a Pureblood, > Harry said.

< He’s a fucking cold son of a bitch then, > Hermione said. < He found out that Purebloods were being attacked and didn’t even blink, just set out to get rid of Dumbledore … not that I can fault him for that. > She scritched Kid for comfort and smiled at Draco. “Do you have any plans for the summer, Draco?”

“Just the usual,” he replied. “We’ll spend some time in France; we have cousins over there. But my family are hosting a Ball over the Summer, that’s why I’m here. You’ll receive formal invitations at some point, and my parents were very much hoping that you’d be able to attend.”

Hermione’s smile froze on her face. < Fucking hell, no. That sounds awful. >

“That sounds lovely,” Harry said, lying through his teeth. “Send us an owl!” < If I tell one more person to send us an owl, I’m going to lose my mind. >

Draco looked pleased as he left the compartment and headed back to the other second years. Settling back into his compartment, he looked up. “Does anyone think they’ve succeeded in getting any closer to the Twins this year?” he said.

“Harry did start sitting next to me in Transfiguration,” Theo said, “but if I’m being honest, I still don’t feel like I know anything about him.”

“I don’t think anyone knows anything about them, not even Neville, who is arguably their closest friend,” Pansy said.

“That’s not good enough anymore,” Draco said. “We heard their speech – our Founder himself has blessed them.”

“Do you really believe that?” Blaise said sceptically.

“I do,” Draco said. He looked around before leaning forward and lowering his voice. “This must remain between us, but I heard from my father that they have an unknown power – not even Dumblesnore understands it.”

Everyone’s eyes widened at that.

“An unknown power?” Daphne breathed.

“I don’t know what it could be,” Draco replied, “but I believe it. They have now defeated the Dark Lord three times. They have power, real power.”

They all bent their heads together and spent the rest of the trip scheming.

The twins had one last visitor; one they were not expecting at all.

< Fuck no, > Harry said, as Anthony Goldstein knocked on their compartment door.

He held up his hands as he entered, looking sheepish. “I’m here to apologise,” he said quickly.

He shrunk back looking horrified as Echidna grew large and hissed at him.

 _“That is not polite, Kid. Don’t listen to my sister. He’s here to apologise,”_ Harry said. _“Kindly shrink back.”_ He turned back to Anthony. “Ignore Kid, she’s a little dramatic.” < And so is my sister, > he shot.

“On behalf of the other Ravenclaws, I’m here to apologise for our behaviour,” he said, “and to thank you for defeating the Basilisk and saving the school. I’ll admit that you earned those points.”

“Well, thanks Anthony,” Harry said. “Maybe we could study together at some point next year.”

< I don’t fucking think so, > Hermione said.

“And I’m sorry for casting that spell,” he said.

“Why **did** you cast that spell?” Harry said.

“Because there was a rumour being spread that you could speak to snakes,” he said slowly. “A rumour being spread by Draco Malfoy.”

-/-

Harry almost had to tackle Hermione to stop her from going after Draco. She was now down in the trunk with Kid and Ty, still loudly berating several people over the bond.

< I love you, sister mine, and your never-ending fury, but I need to concentrate for just a few minutes, > Harry said, exasperated.

The Hogwarts Express had pulled up to the station and Harry was under the Cloak, everyone and everything else shoved down into the trunk. He peered out the window, searching the platform, but couldn’t see the Potions Master. He waited until most of the students had gotten off the train before disembarking.

He hurried towards the barrier before stopping dead in his tracks. Snape was standing directly in front of the barrier. He watched as several students cringed around the Professor who sneered down at them.

< Fuck, > he said.

< What? > Hermione replied. < I hate this! I can’t see anything. > She promptly shoved herself down the bond and into Harry’s mind. < Oh fuck! >

< Any ideas, genius? > Harry said. < Because he’s like standing really wide. I really don’t think I’ll be able to sneak past him. >

< I’m thinking, > Hermione snapped. < Oh fuck yeah, I've got it. First year obstacle course! >

Harry grinned. < Now, we’re talking. > He snuck back onto the train and crouched down to remain hidden. Hermione threw his broom up to him and he quickly got on, making sure everything remained invisible. With a holler over the bond, they shot out into the sky and headed towards freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End !!
> 
> Snape really is going to strangle them when he sees them next hahahaha 
> 
> See you all in Third Year :)
> 
> For everyone who has read this story, thank you so much!!!  
> Feel free to leave a comment to let me know what you think, what your favourite part was, etc.  
> Hope you enjoy Part 3!


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